Rule Number One
by almaruth
Summary: AU take on Singled Out. Gibbs returns, and the team isn't quite as pleased as he thought they'd be. Ziva and McGee stand up for Tony, and the Probie grows a backbone.
1. Chapter 1: In Which Tony is Surprised

Tony's gut – _gone gone Gibbs is gone_ – was acting up. Everyone should be physically fine, though after Friday's fiasco, he should probably just have ordered black roses to be delivered to Abby's lab on principle. Maybe she wouldn't need them? _Right, DiNozzo. 'Cause that's how your luck is running these days._ As he passed through security, he saw Ziva and McGee getting on the elevator. Ziva looked up, and stuck her hand in the closing doors, giving him just enough time to slide inside with the breakfast he'd bought for the team. Bribery? Yeah, but these days, Tony would take what good will he could get.

He masked his once over of his agents – _my agents my team mine to protect – _by giving Ziva an exaggerated leer. Judging from McGee's eye-roll, he'd been successful with one of his agents, though Ziva's soft smile suggested that she knew exactly what he was doing, and even appreciated his care. No gut needed on this elevator at least. Ducky would be pissed at Gibbs, but not any more shook-up by his longtime friends' reappearance and re-disappearance. Was that even a word? Well. He'd go check on him anyway, once the team was settled. Maybe something was up with his probie? McGee would probably deal with it, if that was the problem, but it wouldn't hurt for Tony to check up on her either. The Director? He considered it for a moment, and then mentally shook his head. She was his Director, and of course he'd do his duty, take her orders, but he didn't like the way she manipulated them – so maybe it _was_ related to the Director, tangentially at least.

With a ding, the elevator doors opened to the bullpen. Tony shook himself, the sensation not disappearing. Something was wrong. And then he stepped into the MCRT's section. And stopped. _Nonononono. No. Not like this._ Gibbs was sitting at his old desk, Tony's desk now. Tony's stuff was piled on his old desk, McGee's desk now. Ziva's had been left alone, but McGee's stuff was on the Probie's desk. And the Probie was standing there, pile of files in her hands, looking as shocked and confused as Tony felt._ Well, folks. Let's see if they still respect me now that Gibbs is back. Not my boss. Not anymore. Not their boss, either. Left us left us leftus. _

"I need your reports from Friday," Tony said mildly. "You should all have the initial write up done, but I need the final reports by noon. Probie, just shift that to the floor for now. I'll figure out what to do with it while you write." Lee set the files down, and began to clear a space in front of her computer where she could work. Tony looked at the mess that was his bullpen – _HIS bullpen, thank you very much_ – and wondered what exactly the protocol was in a situation like this.

McGee looked at Tony briefly, and frowned. He walked over to Gibbs, and stood there for a moment, looking down at him. "You're sitting at my boss's desk," he said. His head titled slightly to the side, a move Tony had seen a thousand times as he considered what came next. "That's rude. If you wanted to speak to him, you could have called."

Ziva joined McGee in front of Gibbs' desk. "I am grateful that you came to help me with the FBI. But you left. You are no longer our boss. To treat my boss in this manner, as though the work he has done means nothing, is disrespectful. You taught me your rules, and the one that has been most important is 'Do not screw over your partner'. What was Tony if not your partner? Is he not our partner? Did you think that we would allow you to screw him over?"

McGee spoke again, glancing back at Tony. Tony couldn't read the expression on his face as he turned back to Gibbs. "But if you are here to tell me that Tony is no longer my boss, and that I am no longer his senior field agent, then you had better use your words, rather than dumping the contents of our desks where you think they should go. Of course, if you do that, I am notifying you now that I will be requesting a transfer to a team that recognizes the worth of all of its agents. Hell," and as shocked as Tony was to hear even-keeled McGee swear, he was more shocked to note the anger flushing up McGee's neck as he spoke, "maybe I'll transfer to the FBI. At least then I'll know what I can expect."

Ziva smiled at McGee, and looked over her shoulder at Tony, who stood staring at them, mouth open. "Tony," she said, "close your mouth before you catch a fly. What we are saying, Gibbs, is that you left. Tony stayed. He has had our sixes since you left, and before. We are glad that you have come back to DC, and even to NCIS. But you are no longer our boss."

Gibbs looked stunned, almost as stunned as Tony felt. Agent Lee spoke into the silence, "And what did you expect me to do, _sir_? Slink back to Legal with my tail between my legs, happy to have had a chance to be a field agent? With all due respect, sir, stick it." Lee looked like she might faint, but Tony, McGee, and Ziva were all staring at her approvingly. _Clearly_, Tony thought_ she was listening to our stories – calling a gunnery sergeant sir is like calling him a jackass, and that emphasis . . . and it was McGee who told the Deputy Secretary of Defense to stick it when I was undercover with White. Good girl. We'll make a field agent out of you yet._

Gibbs looked at his former team, McGee and Ziva clearly protecting Tony from him, watching their boss's six even in the bullpen, their Probie standing up to him, and opened his mouth. Before he could speak, Ziva slipped around the side of the desk to lean menacingly over him. "You," she said clearly, "are sitting at my boss' desk, preventing him from working. Move."

"No," Gibbs growled, his confusion turning to anger. "This is my desk, and my team." He didn't look at Tony as he turned back to his papers. And Tony was twelve again, being left behind in the Maui Hilton, waiting patiently for a father who never came.

"No, Gibbs," said McGee, quietly, but with more strength than Tony had ever heard before. "We're not your team. You left us – I get that you had a lot to sort out. But you left us, left Tony. We are his team. DiNozzo's my boss, Lee's my probie. It's my job now to stay on Tony's six, to protect him when he runs into danger to keep the rest of us out of it. You taught us loyalty, and we learned. But we will not give it where trust has been broken." He took a deep breath, opened his mouth to say more, looked over his shoulder at Tony, sighed, and subsided. And Tony wasn't twelve anymore; he had a team, _family_, who stood with him, even protected him from wounds he refused to acknowledge.

"Go, Gibbs. Find another team. We are yours no longer. I killed my brother to save your life, and I will always owe you for saying you made that shot. But I came here to escape from a father who acknowledged me only when I was useful, a father whose approval I spent my whole life trying to gain. What is the saying? Fool me once, shame on you. I made a family here, with a father who gruffly had my six even when he did not know me, but when _his_ crisis came, he left us. Fool me twice, shame on me. I will not be fooled a third time," Ziva spoke quietly, face blank. "How could any of us trust you to have our six in the field when you did not trust us to have yours?"

Gibbs was saved from responding when Tony's cell rang, shattering the silence that grew after Ziva's soft-spoken question. "DiNozzo!" Tony greeted, and then fell silent, listening. "Of course. We'll be right on it." He hung up, and turned to Ziva, McGee, and Lee. "That was dispatch. Gear up."

And in the hustle of movement on the way out of the bullpen, he didn't look at Gibbs once.


	2. Palmer and Ziva have a Deep Think

Jimmy Palmer looked up from filling out the requisition forms for Autopsy when the phone rang. He moved to pick it up, but sat back when Dr. Mallard answered. "Autopsy, Dr. Mallard speaking. Yes, yes of course Anthony. We'll be there. Perhaps you could send directions to Mr. Palmer? He does seem to get lost quite often. It reminds me of a young lad I once – ah. Of course. Yes, I will tell you the story another time dear boy."

As Dr. Mallard finished up the conversation with Tony, Jimmy started gathering the supplies not kept in the truck. As he turned to grab the kit, his cell phone chirped. Pulling it out, he stared at the name on the screen. Michelle? Why was she texting him at work, unless it was work related – maybe Tony had a cold he and Ducky needed to nip in the bud? He flipped the phone open to read the text. His jaw dropped as he read the short text. "Gibbs back. Ziva and McGee stood up for Tony. Tell Ducky please?"

"Mr. Palmer," Ducky was staring at him, "whatever is the matter?"

Jimmy shook his head for a moment, and then spoke. "Agent Gibbs is back. Mich – I mean, Agent Lee just texted me. He came back. Ziva and McGee stood up for Tony – I don't know why they needed to. She wanted me to tell you." Jimmy had a pretty good idea of why they needed to stand up for Tony, in fact, but he tried not to assume anything about the team; they tended to do very surprising things. _I may have grown closer to Tony since Gibbs left, but I don't think I'll ever understand the team's relationship. I think Ducky once said something about siblings, only that's just . . .hinky with the sexual tension between Tony and Ziva. If Gibbs is back and they had to stick up for him, maybe I should have dinner with Tony sooner than Thursday. He'll see right through it but if I play it right, he won't mind. _

Ducky shook his head, looking as confused as Jimmy felt, though with a whole helping more of disappointment. Jimmy was pretty sure _that_ was aimed at Gibbs, though maybe a side dish was reserved for Madam Director. He was pretty sure she was trying to manipulate Tony into something, though he wasn't sure what. But if she wouldn't ask him straight out, then clearly it wasn't all above board. He put it out of his head for the moment; he wasn't going to get anywhere on that topic now (and he hadn't been getting anywhere with Tony on the topic either). "So what's the case, Doctor?"

Ducky smiled a little. "A young man in uniform with no id was found in Rock Creek Park. Preliminary cause of death is a gunshot wound, though Anthony did not mention where the poor man had been shot. He said he would send you directions, perhaps you could print them off before we go?"

Jimmy chuckled as his phone chirped again. "No need, Doctor. He's sending me step-by-step instructions – the first one says 'Leave Autopsy and get in the van. Take a left out of the garage. That means turn toward the driver's door.' I think we'll be just fine this time."

As they drove toward the crime scene, Ducky rambled on about something – Jimmy was tuning him out while he pondered his friend's dilemma. _What can I do to help? At least McGee and Ziva stood up for him. I wonder if Abby would pull the security footage of the bullpen – oh God. Abby. Has anyone even talked to her about this? Will Gibbs even think to visit her in the lab? Not my problem. Except it is, because it'll be Tony's problem. Abby will tell him he's "not Gibbs," and Tony will shut down. Again. I know she doesn't know what it does to him when she says that, but she's an adult! She should know better. Argh! Not thinking about Abby and her reaction. I'll ask Tony if he wants to go out for dinner and a drink. Is there a game tonight? That might distract him . . . or we could catch a movie, though picking a movie for Tony is an experience I'd like to NOT repeat. So. Goals: get the details of what went down in the bullpen, gauge Abby's reaction, and ask Tony to hang out tonight – or soon. I can do this._ Tuning back in to Ducky, Jimmy was alarmed to hear him making a comment about a "young man I once knew whose commanding officer left him in charge of a fiercely loyal unit." It was one thing to tell a story like that with Jimmy as the sole audience, but in front of Tony, it would not go over so well. In fact, Jimmy could picture the way Tony would tense minutely if he heard Ducky now, his shoulders just a fraction higher. He did not need to be reminded of what Gibbs had done.

"Uh, Doctor? Maybe it would be best if you didn't mention that story around Tony. He won't want to talk about it, especially at a crime scene, and if we push now, he'll never talk." Jimmy glanced over at Ducky to see him look startled, and then slightly approving.

"Well said, my dear boy. You are correct. Perhaps after the others go home I can invite him down for a cup of tea. . ." and Ducky was off again. Tony once told him that Gerald, Ducky's previous assistant, had often listened to music, or sports games while working with Ducky, and that it hadn't really seemed to bother the good Doctor at all. Maybe he should invest in a good music player – and an even better protective case. With his luck, he'd drop it in a cadaver the first time he brought it to work.

As they pulled up next to the NCIS truck, Jimmy forcefully set his thoughts aside. While he might not talk to the dead like Dr. Mallard, he agreed with him completely that the dead deserved just as much respect as the living. Now was not the time to worry about things that couldn't immediately be solved.

* * *

><p>Ziva glanced over at where Tony was standing, interviewing the hiker who'd found the body. He was wearing what she privately referred to as his "perfect agent" mask – dedicated, focused, intense, just the right amount of forceful – and not that Tony was not all those things every day. It was just that usually his masks covered up the man she knew would never cross over the line between right and wrong. Tony, Ziva thought, had the strictest sense of right and wrong of anyone she had ever met. <em>In one of Tony's movies, one of the characters said that another was "a good police." Tony is a good police, but he wears so many masks everyone forgets. I cannot blame him. My mask is, as Tony calls it, the crazy ninja chick, and people forget I have emotions. Gibbs has set the fox in the chick house. In the bird house? Gibbs has upset what little balance Tony gained for us.<em> She set the marker kit down with more force than strictly necessary, and Tony glanced back at her, one eyebrow up. '_Need anything?' _Ziva shook her head slightly and grinned. '_No boss. Sorry.'_

McGee looked up from where he was sketching the scene. "Ziva?"

"Yes, McGee?"

He swallowed, looking more nervous than usual. Ziva thought she and Tony had teased that out of him. "Do you think . . ." he trailed off, looking more nervous. "I just think we've been hard on him. He didn't expect us to stand up for him! How could he not . . . Anyway, I was thinking that we could have a team dinner?"

Ziva flinched slightly. Her team dinner was one of the cruelest things she'd ever done to Tony, and she would always regret it. But McGee had a point. A team dinner would do all of them good. "Tony thinking we would desert him will not be fixed by one dinner. I think it is a good idea. We have been hard on him, and sometimes it was teasing and sometimes we meant it, but I do not think he could always tell the difference." Calling Tony insufferable in front of Gibbs and watching betrayal flash across his face before the joker mask came up, and praise from Gibbs that did not wipe the betrayal out of his eyes.

"Right," McGee said, face shuttered with his own painful memories, "team dinner. I'll invite Abby and Lee, if you'll speak to Ducky and Palmer. And we can invite Tony together, once everyone else agrees. Wednesday night? Or once the case closes?"

Ziva nodded. "Wednesday, I think. The case could drag on for too long." She paused, and then asked, "McGee, the fox is in the birdhouse?"

He looked up again to stare at her for a moment, and then laughed. "In the henhouse, Ziva. The fox is in the henhouse."

She grumbled under her breath about stupid American idioms, but kept her head down so he wouldn't see her grin. McGee looked far less troubled now. As she worked on setting out markers next to evidence, the probie crouched down to help her. Ziva knew she terrified Lee, and she almost felt bad about it – except she knew Lee needed to toughen up a bit, learn to think outside the box. She was worse than McGee was when she had started with NCIS, and McGee had the excuse of just having lost a partner, and nearly lost the other. Actually, now that Ziva thought about it, all of them had nearly died in the weeks immediately prior to her arrival. No wonder McGee had been so timid.

"Office David?"

"Call me Ziva, Lee," she responded. Maybe first names would help? No, she still looked scared.

Lee cleared her throat, "I was thinking that, since you are friends with the Director, maybe you could see if she would tell you what the hell she was thinking?"

Ziva felt as surprised at her language as Lee looked, though she was certain it did not show on her face that clearly. _I guess all we needed to do to grow her backbone was threaten the team._ "That is a good suggestion, Lee. I will see if I can get any information from her. I am unsure if she will tell me anything; her relationship with Gibbs is longer than hers with me."

Lee looked startled, and then grinned slightly. It was startlingly close to a smirk. "I know you don't think much of my legal skills, but if she doesn't back down on replacing Tony, I could probably make a case to SecNav of favoritism based on a previous relationship. A previous relationship with her direct supervisor, who would now be her direct subordinate. Something along the lines of 'Despite Agent DiNozzo's excellent record as team lead, and his teams' disinterest in having him replaced, Director Sheppard seems convinced that Agent Gibbs should replace him, demoting Agents DiNozzo and McGee, and sending Probationary Agent Lee back to Legal. Agent Gibbs and Director Sheppard were in a relationship when he was her team lead, and it is apparent to the office that she is very interested in continuing that relationship.' It might help."

Ziva stared at her for a moment. _What happened to the meek probie? Where did she go?_ "Thank you, Michelle. I will let you know if that is necessary. McGee could probably help us if we need to go that road."

He looked up as she spoke his name, clearly having been listening in. "Way to go, Probie! That's the type of thinking we've been trying to get you to do!"

"Are you corrupting my probie, McGee?" Tony grinned as they all looked up, startled. "What plans are you hatching over here?"

They all tried to speak at once, but McGee and Lee nodded at Ziva to continue. "We are planning to bring down the Director with the help of Lee's legal skills, McGee's hacking skills, and my skills in interrogation and intimidation."

Tony raised a single eyebrow in her direction. "Well, Zee-va! You certainly don't dream small. Back to the case. Tell me what you got."

Relieved that Tony wasn't going to press it, Ziva began her report. "I cannot tell you much about the body until Ducky gets here, but a preliminary viewing suggests that the victim was killed with a gunshot wound to the head. I cordoned off the area where the bullet might have ended up, as there is an exit wound. I will need help to do a full search for the bullet; the casing is not here. The victim struggled with the perpetrator, but there are no signs of struggle on the ground. There are two sets of footprints headed toward the victim, and two away, and I have marked those. There is a third set belonging to an injured party by the way they drag, and I have marked those as well. The clearing is otherwise clear of evidence, Boss." Ziva finished her report, and looked back at Tony. He was staring at the crime scene in contemplation, but turned back to her when she finished.

"Nice job, Ziva. Probie: murder scene or body dump?" Tony gave praise much more easily than Gibbs, and Ziva appreciated it. Tony had taught her almost everything she knew about being an investigator, and his praise in this area was important. She knew that she still had a long way to go before she was anywhere near his skills, but she tried to pay close attention to what he did at a crime scene – without, of course, letting him know she was modeling herself after him!

Glancing at the blood underneath the victim's head, Lee answered, "Boss, I think this is about half a crime scene. Well, no. I mean, it is a crime scene but." Lee paused and took a breath. "The shooting took place here, but I agree with Ziva. The victim struggled, as evidenced by his knuckles, and his bruises, but it wasn't here. So, it's a murder-scene, but we're missing another scene?"

McGee chimed in, "It's almost like the perp wanted the body found quickly. We're only about ten feet off a popular hiking trail here."

Tony nodded, looking distracted. "Has anyone heard from Ducky? I thought they'd be here by now."

Ziva shrugged. "I can go back to where we parked the van to wait for them, Tony. It is not a problem."

He nodded again, and Ziva left. As she hiked back, her thoughts returned to the bullpen, and she grew angry. _Who does he think he is, to barge back in here like that? I said I had been abandoned by fathers twice, but I am not the only one. Gibbs is – was, maybe – Tony's big brother and father rolled into one. My dossier on Tony was as complete as Mossad could make it, but I know there are pieces missing. Hawai'i was not the first place Tony's father forgot him, it was just the longest. Tony could, and even now will forgive Gibbs for leaving like that because he is Tony and he has always kept the peace between us and Gibbs, always deflected his anger. He will probably even forgive him for returning like this, eventually. I cannot. Tony does not think he is worth fighting for. He will be angry because Gibbs left and hurt Abby, because he came back and hurt me, because he demoted McGee rudely and kicked Lee off the team, but he will not be angry at Gibbs for leaving him, for demoting him, for only saying 'You'll do'. _ Ziva's muscles were tense, and she found herself falling into a walk that she tried not to use here; stealthy and sly, full of power and grace. When Tony called her the ninja chick, it was a gentle reminder she did not need to be deadly here, with these people. She knew the others thought she had a potential for deadliness, for violence, but Tony knew it. He knew it because, although she'd never truly seen it, Ziva was certain he carried that same deadliness in himself. He played it off with the play-boy mask, the joker, the clown, and McGee and Lee could not see through it. _Gibbs used to see through those masks, but he doesn't anymore. Has not since he got blown up. I think this is what I am most angry about. Tony is maybe the best of us, and he is the best undercover operative I have ever met. He lets me see through the masks so I know I am not alone in this. If he did not want me to see through them, I would not know they were there. Gibbs knew this, used this, appreciated it, but he does not remember now. If he did, he would not have demoted Tony like he did. Or tried to. Tony isn't demoted until he hears it from the Director. Lee was right; I need to speak with her. _

Ziva's musings carried her all the way back to the trucks, where Ducky and Palmer were pulling supplies out. "Ah! Ziva! Would you be a dear and help Mr. Palmer and myself carry this out to the scene? We did not get lost once; Mr. Palmer did an excellent job navigating. I must congratulate Anthony on his directions."

Palmer rolled his eyes in Ziva's direction. She smiled, and answered Ducky. "Of course I will help you. Tony was beginning to get worried that his directions did not solve the problem and sent me to wait for you."

She and Palmer picked up the gurney, and they set off back down the trail. Ziva considered filling them in on the crime scene, but decided that could wait. "Ducky, McGee and I thought we should have another team dinner. Maybe you have a suggestion for where we could eat? Palmer, you are invited as well."

Ducky glanced at Ziva, and she knew what he was going to say before he said it. "I assume Anthony is to be invited as well?"

"Yes, Ducky. I have always felt terrible about that. McGee and I thought we might have an easier time convincing him to join us if everyone else was going to be there as well. McGee is asking Lee and Abby." Ziva smiled at Ducky to let him know there were no hard feelings. "Palmer, what about you?"

He grinned at her. "I'm in. I was already planning on taking Tony out tonight. I mean, not out out. Just dinner and drinks. As friends, I mean."

Ziva laughed. "Yes, Palmer, I know what you mean. I will not bite if you talk to me. You do not need to be tripping over your words always."

He ducked his head, blushing. "Officer David, I was wondering – Michelle texted me that Gibbs was back. What happened in the bullpen this morning?"

Ziva scowled and her body tensed up again. "Gibbs returned. And moved everyone's things to their previous desks, without notifying us, or asking Tony. Tony told Lee to move the stuff off her desk and sit down, and asked the rest of us to write up our reports. Gibbs did not move. To save Tony from having to ask him to do so, McGee and I pointed out that he was being rude, and should move. McGee threatened to transfer to the FBI if Gibbs was truly demoting them like that. I asked him how he expected us to trust that he had our six, when he would not trust us to have his." She shook her head. "I am sorry, Ducky. I know he is your friend, but I cannot believe that he could do this to us, or to Tony."

Ducky shook his head. "Jethro may be a friend of mine, my dear, but that does not excuse his behavior. I am afraid we will all be in for a bit of a rough ride while he finds his stride, and our Anthony will bear the brunt of it. It will, I think, hurt him the most, but he will also work tirelessly to keep Jethro from hurting the rest of us, no matter his feelings."

Palmer burst out, "If you all would stop comparing him to Gibbs, it would help! He thought you all wanted him back. Abby is the worst, with her picture wall and 'training' Tony, but none of you have made this easier for him." He cut himself off, and glanced at Ziva apprehensively.

Ziva wanted to shout at Palmer, but only because he was right – and she knew it. They _had_ treated Tony terribly. "You are right, Palmer. It is why we want to take him to dinner as a team. We were wrong, and we know it, but we cannot change that now. All we can do is do better in the future." _I apologize, Tony. You are not Gibbs, but it is a good thing. I should have told you the second part as well. I will make it up to you._


	3. Chapter 3: In Which Abby Cries

Abby was nodding her head in time to the music blasting in the lab when Tony texted her to let her know they were going out on a case. Which seemed normal, until Tim texted her to tell her to be extra nice to Tony today, which was hinky. Whatever happened happened right after everyone arrived from work. A quick Google check of "DiNozzo" turned up nothing, so Daddy DiNozzo hadn't kicked the bucket, unfortunately, in Abby's humble opinion. A quick review of Peoria, Philly, and Baltimore turned up no dead cops, which was always good. Family is okay, no dead cops from Tony-boy's past. . . Abby turned to check her "Keep Tony Safe" list, consisting of bad guys he'd put away and when they came up for parole. None of the ones who were up for parole were any threat, nor had their cases been particularly bad. Tony might not talk much about his past – oh, Abby had heard plenty about Ohio State, and his frat-buddies, but he sure didn't open up much about the stuff that really mattered – but she'd picked through the pieces and she could figure out for herself which cases really bothered him. She glanced up at the wall of pictures of Gibbs, and shook her head. _Shouldn't have left us, boss-man. Who's he gonna let look after him now?_

Major Mass Spec dinged, and Abby clomped over to look at the results. She heard the rattle of ice in a plastic cup, and said "Thanks! Kinda early for a Caff-Pow!, though. Just set it on my desk, please?"

"You sure that's where you want it, Abs?" There was no mistaking that voice. Abby jumped, and spun around, lab coat fanning out to her sides.

"Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs! You came to visit me! And you brought me a Caff-Pow! Right when Major Mass Spec dinged! It wasn't even your case!" She flung herself at him, reveling in the hug. Stepping back, she looked him over. "Nice 'stache there, Gibbs. What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be on a tequila vacation? Not that I want you to leave! You should totally stay here now that you're here. I mean in D.C. You are back, right?"

"Maybe, Abs, maybe." One look at his face made Abby's stomach sink. 'Be extra nice to Tony, Abby. Rough morning,' echoed in her head. Gibbs showing up, looking confused about coming back. . . _Oh Gibbs. What did you do?_

"What did you do to him? Did you make him upset, Gibbs? 'Cause Tony's been really good to us since you left. Toned down the playboy and the jokester, made sure we were okay. Except no one made sure he was okay. You were the only one who could ever get him to really talk before, and then you left, and now you're back, but maybe not, and Gibbs! What did you do?"

He ducked his head a little, and said gruffly, "What makes you think I did something? Maybe its DiNozzo's fault I'm not sure if I'll come back."

"Gibbs! Not funny. What did you do?" Abby demanded, heart now sinking down to spend some quality time with her stomach. _Tony-boy! I'll give you an extra big hug. Just don't leave us!_

He glared at her, but Abby stood her ground. He wouldn't hurt her, and he'd hurt her Tony, which wasn't allowed. "Thought you all needed me. Sure sounded like it last time I was here. Guess not."

And Abby could guess what had gone down upstairs, and she thought her heart might burst with pride for McGee and Ziva, but she had to deal with Gibbs first. "Of course we need you, Gibbs! Don't be stupid. You're Gibbs, the boss-man, the papa-bear –"

He cut her off. "Not my team anymore, Abby. You all have made that very clear to me." And with that, he turned and walked out of her lab, leaving the Caff-Pow! on her desk.

She stared at the door, anger and confusion warring with hurt. _Maybe I shouldn't have sounded so accusatory. But he sure overreacted just now. I wish Ducky wasn't out at the crime scene. I could use some wisdom. Of course I'm glad Gibbs is back. I just don't want 'Gibbs is back' to translate to 'Drop Tony like a hot potato'. And apparently, that's what Gibbs thinks should happen. What did he expect? I don't think I want my Caff-Pow! anymore. I didn't really think about what would happen if Gibbs came back. I guess I thought everything would stay the same, only plus Gibbs. Which was stupid of me, really. Of course things would change. It'd be nice if one of the other teams would catch a case. Or bring me some evidence. Something to do. Anything. Maybe I could start filling out some of my paperwork backlog? I just can't think about this anymore._

Abby slipped into her desk chair, and pulled the stack of paperwork out of her inbox. Mindless, numbing paperwork sounded really good to right about then.

It was at least two hours' worth of paperwork later when she resurfaced as McGee walked into the lab, carrying her evidence. Slipping quickly into a well-worn routine, she signed for all the evidence he handed over, and then started processing it. He turned to leave and made it as far as the door before he turned back around and came to stand next to her, looking at her sideways.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything, Abby. I just . . . it didn't seem right to do it over the phone."

Abby smiled tightly. "It's fine, McGee. I'm not mad at you. Gibbs came down to see me, and we got into an argument, and then he . . . he walked out of here like we didn't matter and . . ." To her complete dismay, Abby felt tears slipping down her face, and her voice caught, and then before she could do anything, she was outright sobbing into McGee's shoulder. He was saying something to her, but she couldn't really hear him. His voice was drowned out by the chorus of _Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs_ in Abby's mind, which sounded strangely like _come back please don't leave us_.

As her sobs died down into sniffles and jerky breaths, she caught some of what McGee was saying while he rubbed her back. "Couldn't just leave well enough alone, could you? How long is it gonna take us to get Tony back on an even keel? And then you made Abby cry, so now Tony will be mad and hurt, which is even worse. God, Gibbs. You're the boss-man, but you sure screwed up. We still needed you when you left and need you and don't do this to us," he looked down at her, and cracked a slight smile. "Hey Abs. Feeling better?"

"Yeah, Timmy. I am. Thanks. I think I needed that." She laughed a little, and shook her head, giving Tim an extra squeeze before she stepped back. "Now go back upstairs and let me work my science-magic on this evidence. We got to catch this dirt-bag quick, so we can fix this mess. I don't like it; everything feels hinky."


	4. Chapter 4: McGee is a Terrible Liar

McGee stepped out of Abby's lab and walked into the elevator before letting his shoulders sag just a bit. _Is this how Tony felt, dealing with her when Gibbs left the first time? I should have been much nicer to him. That was terrible. I don't like crying people in general, but crying Abby makes me want to shoot something to make her stop. I wonder how long I can keep him in the dark about that. He's got enough to worry about without adding crying Abby to the list. What was the Director thinking? Did she even know he was coming back? _McGee realized he was staring at the elevator doors, and hadn't even pushed the button for the bullpen yet. _Ye gods. Better get my head screwed on straight before I go back out there. Tony's got enough on his plate without me getting all off-track. God being SFA is a thankless task. Keep everyone on an even keel, don't let your boss go crazy or off the grid or close himself completely off, make sure everyone is taken care of. . . I am barely hanging on as Tony's SFA, I can't imagine what doing all this for Gibbs must have been like. And I'm still pretty sure Tony's doing way more than his fair share of the paperwork still._ The ding-slide of the elevator doors broke into his thoughts, announcing his arrival to the bullpen. He walked into their section, and moved to sit down at his desk when Tony spoke.

"Abs having a rough day, McGee?"

"What? No, she's fine."

Tony just looked at him for a moment, and then gestured in the direction of McGee's shoulder. "Next time you try to lie to me, make sure the evidence is covered up."

Bemused, McGee looked down, and blushed. His shoulder was visibly damp, and streaked with mascara. "Right, boss. I'll keep that in mind. She's . . . uh, well, she's been better, but she feels much better now. Oh, and she sends a hug, but I thought maybe you'd rather I let her give you that."

Tony smirked. It wasn't much of a smirk, but it looked more real than any of his other expressions so far.

"Look, Tony," McGee began to say; hoping that inspiration would strike and he would find the perfect thing to say to comfort his friend, but Tony cut him off.

"So, no ID on our dead body. As Ducky would say, 'poor soul'. Start running down missing persons, please. I'm going to see if Ducky has anything for us. Hopefully the guy is, in fact, a Marine, and therefore in the database. Of course, shot in Rock Creek Park – odds are he's a petty officer." Tony finished, and looked at McGee for a long, uncomfortable moment. "McGee – Tim. Thanks. I just can't talk about it right now; I want to stay focused on the case."

"Yeah, Tony. But we will talk about it." McGee tried to give him an imposing glare, but when Tony just rolled his eyes and muttered something about " ," he was pretty sure it hadn't been imposing. It had, however, served to loosen the tension in his boss' shoulders, which McGee was going to count as a win.

As Tony headed toward the elevator, McGee started running down missing persons, searching the databases for missing men who matched their victim's description. He'd always hated this part of his job – discovering that someone who had only been "missing" was dead, and that they'd have to inform the family of that. Plus the difference between facial recognition photos from autopsy and the missing person's photos was always hard to see – here's a person looking pretty vivacious, and here they are, looking pasty-grey with closed eyes, looking like a wax doll. McGee loved working for NCIS, loved his job, but he hoped he never, ever got used to the way corpses looked.

He shifted back in his seat as his computer started searching, watching the screen without really seeing it. _I wonder where Gibbs went. He's not here, not in the lab. Maybe autopsy? I wonder if Ducky can keep his temper long enough to explain to him _why _we're all so angry. I wish we could do this morning over again. I don't think Tony saw, because he was trying to avoid looking at Gibbs, but Gibbs looked confused when we left. I don't think he remembers us properly yet. He probably wants nothing to have changed, but we all grew and changed while he was gone, and we don't want to go back into our old roles. I am so much _more_ now than I was – a better field agent, better at making those instinctual leaps that come so naturally to Tony, more willing to step outside my role as 'team geek', more confident in my role as 'team geek', know that I am necessary for the team. Ziva has grown by leaps and bounds as an investigator. I didn't understand why Tony was so pissed off when she was assigned to our team after Kate. I get it now. She had no investigative training at all. No one in their right mind would allow someone who hadn't been to FLETC, or through a Police Academy, out into the field, but she was right there with us, and I certainly wasn't ready to pick up that slack. No wonder Tony doesn't completely trust the Director; that was really dangerous for the rest of us, and practically the first thing she did upon arriving at NCIS was assign Ziva to our team. Is this how Tony thinks all the time? It's sort of lonely, to be this suspicious of my higher-ups. At least I know Tony well enough to know that he would die before betraying us, which is actually part of the problem. Good God being SFA sucks. Well, not really. I love my job. I just wish my job wasn't constantly screwing the best man I know over. _

A ding from his computer startled him out of his thoughts, and he winced. As much as McGee liked solving cases and getting justice, he hated this part. Their victim had a name now. He wasn't John Doe any longer. McGee could remember Ducky talking about police forces he'd worked with in the past – they had John and Jane Doe's in the hundreds. At least NCIS usually only had one at any given moment. Currently, they had none. Or would have none, as soon as McGee looked at the screen. The report was for a young man, who had disappeared –_well that's certainly odd -_ four years ago. Adam Peters, reported missing at age 19, from Detroit, Michigan. He opened the file, and started to read. Several minutes later, he rubbed the back of his neck. This case would be rough. Peters had several run-ins with the police, trying to run-away from his guardians. Finally Child Services had gotten involved, and he had been removed from the household – but only for two years. A judge deemed his guardians fit, and he was sent back. Four years later, he disappeared. And his guardians hadn't been the ones to file the report, despite the fact that Peters' address of record was still their home. A Trina Simons had filed the report, stating she was his girlfriend and hadn't seen or heard from him in over a week. That part of the case seemed pretty open-and-shut to McGee, but he wouldn't make assumptions. Instead, he'd call Tony.

It seemed like an eternity before Tony picked up. "DiNozzo."

"Hey boss. Got a hit on the vic. You should come see this."

Tony said something to Ducky in the background, and then said, "Yeah, McGee. I'll be up in five."


	5. Ducky has one and a half conversations

Ducky sighed as he and Jimmy moved the victim onto one of the tables in autopsy. On days like today, when he was dealing with John Doe victims _and_ the team's frustrations about Gibbs, he felt all of his years. With the smoothness of long practice, Jimmy turned to get the paperwork and evidence bags needed to begin the autopsy, but he made it no more than three steps before he stumbled into the next table. Ducky looked up sharply – Jimmy might not be confident in many arenas, but here in autopsy he shone. Looking past young Mr. Palmer, Ducky sighed again. Gibbs was sitting at his desk, looking, for the first time Ducky could remember, unsure of himself . . . and maybe a little ashamed. "Mr. Palmer, I do believe Jethro and I are going to have a spot of tea. I think this will finish off my tea supply; be a lad and go for a tea run please?"

"I… uh, of course Doctor. Are you sure you'll be alright?" Jimmy's voice suggested that he wasn't sure _what_ he would do if Ducky said he wouldn't be alright, but Ducky was touched nonetheless. Tony's friendship with Mr. Palmer had worked wonders for the young man's confidence – Ducky had seen him badger Tony into getting several injuries checked out, not falling for his patent "I'm fine, Palmer."

He smiled at Jimmy, noting the way Jethro – because it was Jethro sitting at his desk, not Gibbs – tensed when Jimmy implied that he might be a danger. "I'll be fine. In fact, why don't you take that lovely young woman of yours out to lunch? I'm sure Anthony won't mind if you borrow her for a good cause." Ducky might normally project a kind, almost grandfatherly air, but as him mother had said in her better days, he had a "streak o' the devil in him". And that streak was positively chortling over the color young Mr. Palmer's face had just turned.

"Of course, Doctor. I'll collect her – I mean call her – and go." Jimmy was off, looking as though he wanted to melt into the floor.

The doors to autopsy slid closed nearly noiselessly as Ducky began to prepare the body for its autopsy. He would at least get the photos taken so that the team could begin running down the missing persons list, and get the samples for Abby ready so that when Jimmy returned, he could take them down to her. "I'll be with you in a just a moment, Jethro. I'd like to get the preliminaries done so that we can sit down and have a cup of tea." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jethro nod stiffly.

A few photo's later, Ducky was done. He sent the files up to McGee, and set the tray of samples for Abby aside. He turned to his desk to start the water for tea, but was shocked to see that Jethro had done that for him – and poured two cups, which were steeping. He inhaled, smelling black tea and bergamot. "Ah, Earl Grey. One of my favorites, indeed. Good choice, Jethro. Now, what did you need to see me about?"

Gibbs took a sip and grimaced slightly. "I'm a little confused, Duck. I thought they wanted me back, but Abby got angry with me, Ziva compared me to her father, and McGee threatened to transfer to the FBI! What the hell is wrong with them? Last time I was here, Ziva was busy complaining about how DiNozzo was insufferable, and McGee would hardly take his orders. Now they want him and not me?"

Ducky decided it would be kinder to not ask how Tony had reacted – Gibbs' avoidance of his name suggested that Gibbs knew he'd behaved badly in regards to Tony, or at least that he knew he'd hurt Tony badly, even if he didn't know how or why. "Jethro, you left. Tony stayed, despite everything the team threw at him. He held them together and kept them going even when they wouldn't listen and he had to stay late to finish everything. McGee and Ziva have realized this, and come to value Tony more than they have before. I believe that Ziva's 'insufferable' comment was not meant to be taken seriously, and that she regrets making it now. She does not quite get how to make a proper joke, and what she means as a joke or a gentle ribbing often comes off as a harsh comment." Ducky was silent for a moment, while Gibbs studied his mug of tea. "Jethro, I must ask, why did you expect the team to be the same? In what capacity have you returned?"

Gibbs was silent for a long moment, and then sighed. He looked at Ducky ruefully. "I'm actually going to have to talk, aren't I? Jen never filed my retirement – I had every intention of not returning. She reinstated me as an Agent, and team lead of MCRT. I assumed that she would have told DiNozzo, and the rest of the team; I should have known better than to assume. . ." he trailed off, looking back down into his tea. He growled, sounding every inch of the Papa-bear Abby had dubbed him. "She hinted that he was bucking for a transfer, that he wasn't ready for the job. Hell, she outright stated it. 'He's looking at positions, Jethro. I don't think he was ready for team lead of this team. Another one, maybe.' That's what she said, Duck! So I was pissed at him for wanting to leave – I thought I broke him of that! – and I reacted badly. Then I was more confused and hell, Duck, you know what I'm like when I get confused."

Ducky grimaced just thinking about it. "Well, Jethro, you know what you have to do. And don't give me any of that 'apologies are a sign of weakness' balderdash. If you want the team to stay, you'll have to do more than handing out head-slaps. You must explain to Anthony what you just told me, only you will have to be more explicit about it. He has done a marvelous job of leading the team – I believe their solve rate has stayed as high as it ever was when you were here." Ducky paused, and took a steadying breath. "Jethro, although I believe that you will be able to repair your relationships with everyone here, you must be more open with them. We were all hurt by your sudden disappearance. Your reappearance this morning has only made things worse – they are still hurt, and now they are angry with you as well. You will have to clear things up with Anthony before you can get anywhere, I believe."

The two men sat in silence, Gibbs looking as contemplative as Ducky had ever seen him. He sipped at his tea, and made a slight face at its temperature registered. As angry as he'd been at Jethro for leaving, Ducky had to admit that he'd missed his friend dearly, and sitting quietly with him was healing some of the rawness he'd left behind. Gibbs lifted his tea cup and drained it. "Thanks, Duck. I'll play nicely. I do know how," he said, as he set the cup down and stood. "Think I'll go get some coffee. Get out of everyone's space for a while."

Before Gibbs reached the doors, they slid open, and Tony stepped in, stopping short when he saw Gibbs standing in front of him. Ducky watched apprehensively from his seat at his desk, but Gibbs just nodded at Tony once, and then stepped out the doors and onto the waiting elevator. Tony took two steps forward, and the doors slid shut behind him.

"Ducky. You got anything for me?" Ducky winced internally at cool sound of Tony's voice.

"Not yet, Anthony, though I do have some samples to take up to Abby. Would you mind assisting me in removing this poor young man's clothes so I can send them with the samples? Mr. Palmer has gone to purchase more tea, as I seem to have run out." As Ducky spoke, he maneuvered Tony toward the table where the body was laid out. Contrary to popular belief, Ducky did know when he ought to be silent, and so he and Tony worked in silence stripping the body and bagging the clothes. Tony's shoulders didn't relax until Ducky was halfway through his initial examination of the body, and as Ducky signed off on the initial examination, he began to speak. To Ducky's dismay, he didn't speak about his reactions to Gibbs' return, though he supposed that, like Gibbs' avoidance of Tony's name, the silence spoke for itself. In fact, what Tony was speaking about was solely another of his masks. A Tony rambling about coeds and frats and drinking was a Tony who felt the need to reapply his masks, a Tony who was worried or nervous or anxious.

Tony's phone rang, halting his monologue. "DiNozzo."

Ducky couldn't hear the other voice, but it became clear when Tony turned to him, covering the mouthpiece. "McGee's got a hit on the vic, but something about it is making him nervous. He wants me to go up and check it out." Turning back to the phone, he responded, "Yeah, McGee, I'll be up in five." Tony slipped the phone back into his pocket, and turned back to Ducky. "Thanks, Ducky. Call me when you have anything."

Ducky watched Tony until the elevator doors closed, and sighed. "I did hope he might open up to me, but if wishes were horses, my poor man, beggars would ride. Now, I am nearly certain that it was, in fact, this gunshot wound to your chest that did you in, but needs must, young man, and so let's see about what's inside." Ducky chatted with the dead bodies in autopsy as a way to think things through; his stories were designed to get rid of a distraction, because he knew no one really wanted to listen to them, and to help him form a psychological autopsy, with his stories inspired by small things he'd noticed. He sighed again, and turned back to his desk to gather the supplies he'd need for the autopsy. "Well, young man, it is clear from my initial exam that you did not have the happiest home life. I do hope you managed to get away from it, like another young man of my acquaintance. I must admit that I agree with Abby in her opinion of his father, despite having never met the man in question. He did an excellent job of destroying that boy's self-worth. I believe these next few days will be hard, indeed."


	6. Chapter 6: Gibbs has feelings of remorse

Gibbs waited until he was certain that DiNozzo was safely ensconced in Autopsy with Ducky before he stepped onto the elevator. He let the elevator start up, and waited until he was certain it we between floors before hitting the emergency stop button. He stood in the sudden silence for a long moment before whirling around and pounding his fist into the elevator wall. The last time he'd seen DiNozzo look like that was when he'd confronted his partner in Baltimore about how he was on the take. It was a look filled with disappointment, anger, and deep sadness. Gibbs had sworn to keep that look out of Tony's eyes. _I've done a bang up job of that,_ he thought bitterly. _Tony can barely look at me. Jenny, what the hell are you playing at? Duck wouldn't lie to me about this, and he's worked with agents long enough to have a truly solid handle on the situation. Damnit! I can't confront her, not yet. Got to figure out her game. And for that, I need coffee._

He stepped out of NCIS HQ into startlingly bright sunlight. He scowled briefly at the sky; he felt that grey and dreary would be a more appropriate weather choice. Shaking his head, he took off for his favorite coffee shop. Coffee acquired, he walked toward the river. Sitting on the benches in the park had always cleared his head, and often allowed him to make connections in the cases he was working. He found an empty bench and sat down. Sipping his coffee, he stared out, not really seeing the people walking by.

_Jen is trying to cause a rift. Is it only between me and DiNozzo, or me and the team? Or DiNozzo and the team? What does she gain from that? And scratch that. Jen has caused a rift. Ducky's right. I'm gonna have to apologize. To DiNozzo for sure. And probably Abby – shouldn't have yelled at her. Got to tell McGee and Ziva that I'm proud of them. Probably that Probie too. Sounds like Tony let up on Rule Twelve. I wonder if he and Ziva. . . Focus, Jethro! You will lose them if you don't fix this. McGee was serious about the FBI threat. So Jen sets me up to come back pissed off at DiNozzo for leaving. She knows me well enough to know I would trust her word – she was my partner! – and that I'm bad at communicating. So I come back as a bastard and . . . Well. Anyone looking at DiNozzo's record would assume he'd cut ties with NCIS. I know he wouldn't. The team is his family, so he won't leave them. But if you didn't know him that well . . . she might have assumed he'd look for an internal transfer. Too many ties to NCIS to cut, but I return, boot him back to SFA without talking to him and he might leave the team. Is there a Team Lead position open somewhere? Would Tony leave? I've certainly given him reason to. And if Tony leaves, will the rest of the team stay? Would McGee really go to the FBI? Ziva can't really leave NCIS unless she wants to go back to Mossad and Israel, but it doesn't sound like she wants to go back _

"So Jethro, is it true McGee's looking for a transfer to the FBI? Can I get DiNozzo with that deal, and David?"

Only barely not jumping, Gibbs turned to see Tobias Fornell sitting next to him on the bench, sipping his own coffee.

"I mean, if they're really looking to move on, I could certainly use their skills. Hell, DiNozzo's had a standing job offer from me for years. And I'm sure I could work out a liaison position for David with Mossad. Obviously we can always use McGee's computer skills."

"They're not going anywhere," Gibbs ground out. DiNozzo had a standing job offer from the FBI? When had that happened? Gibbs didn't even think Fornell liked Tony. And damn it, he was going to fix this. They weren't going anywhere, and definitely not to the feebies.

Fornell chuckled and took another sip. "Oh, Jethro? Word in the alphabet agencies is that you dumped their stuff on their old desks, and David and McGee chewed you out for it. Also says their timid little probie turned out to have claws." He drained his coffee, and turned to look Gibbs in the eye. "Jethro, you screwed up. The other alphabet agencies? They may not like DiNozzo's personality, but they love his results. I'm sure the CIA will be sniffing around – he's that good undercover. Everyone wants a McGee on their team. And David, well, the CIA will be looking at her, and her father would love for her to go back home. If you want to fix it, do it fast before you lose them. Might have to break some of those rules of yours."

Gibbs sighed. "Yeah. I screwed up. Don't need anyone else's help to see that." He was silent a while longer, trying to decide if he should mention his worries about the Director. Hell. He and Tobias had been friends – both screwed over by the same woman – and outside of his team, he was probably the one he trusted the most. "The Director's up to something. Wanted me to blunder in like that. Told me DiNozzo was looking to leave, that he hadn't done a good job with the MCRT. Turns out, the solve rate stayed the same, and he lead despite getting crap from McGee and Ziva. I think she wants him for another position, and she's doing whatever she can to make it happen. Can you look into that for me? Tony's specialty is undercover . . . I'm beginning to think she wants to use that."

Fornell eyed Gibbs, and then looked back out over the Potomac. Gibbs sipped at his coffee and watched Tobias fiddle with the lid of his takeout cup. "You still got that boat in your basement? Maybe I should come over tonight, see how it's doing." He looked back at Gibbs. "I had some intel for you, but from what you just told me, it's important we talk. And I do have to be back to the office soon." Fornell stood. "I'll see you later, Jethro."

Gibbs watched as Tobias walked away. _God Jen, what are you up to? And why the hell are you dragging Tony into it? _He sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot today. _I'd better make things right with Tony, and soon. I may be a bastard, but I'm sure as hell not going to sit around and let the Director use my team like pawns. Especially when I helped alienate them. I need to come up with a plan. And I will need some help, but unless I'm back on speaking terms with Tony, none of the team will help. Duck might. . . _Gibbs let his shoulders slump for a moment as he thought about all the work he'd have to do to make things right.Closing his eyes for a moment, he gathered all his reserves, and stood up, opening his eyes. He tossed the empty coffee cup in the trash, and walked back into NCIS.

Making his excuses to Jenny, Gibbs drove home, stopping on the way to pick up some supplies. Fornell would bring dinner with the intel, but it was up to Gibbs to provide the drinks, and he knew he was out of both bourbon and beer. He picked up a couple steaks as well. If he could get DiNozzo to his place, cooking him dinner would go a long way in making his apology count. And he would make this right.

He would.


	7. Chapter 7: Fornell Chooses a Side

Knowing his friend, and his uncanny ability to read people, Fornell studiously did not think about DiNozzo or the mess Gibbs had left his team in as he walked away. It wasn't until he was safely in his car that Fornell allowed himself to think over the conversation he'd just had with Gibbs. The man seemed determined to fix things. If he actually allowed himself to speak honestly about his emotions, he might even manage to do just that. But Tobias had known Jethro for years – Christ, they'd married the same woman – and he'd never known about Shannon and Kelly. He understood, of course, why Gibbs never talked about them, and it explained a lot about how Gibbs was with Emily, but Tobias couldn't help but feel a bit betrayed.

And he was angry, too. He and DiNozzo might talk a lot of shit about each other, and to each other, but when Gibbs wasn't around, they got along well. He was one of the best agents Fornell had ever worked with, and he'd hire him in a moment. No matter what Sacks may think, DiNozzo is _very _good at what he does. His movies, the chatter about women, acting juvenile; they're all pieces of a mask that lulls you into a sense of false security, but once you think you have him pegged, he does something completely out of left field that has you questioning yourself. He'd first heard of the kid from a friend in the agency. He'd been working a serial case in Philadelphia, and had spoken of the young detective he'd worked with well, albeit often in exasperation. Fornell had kept an ear out for the kid after that, and so he knew all about the two year time limit – and he'd known when he came to DC to work with Gibbs and NCIS. He'd been sending out feelers to DiNozzo around the two year mark when he finally got to meet him. Impressed with his inventiveness and his drive, even if it had resulted in Tony's ass getting tossed on the beltway, he'd stepped up the recruiting, but he'd only ever gotten a 'thanks but no thanks' from the kid. Tobias had found himself looking forward to working with Gibbs and his team, if only to work with DiNozzo. The kid was good, and Fornell agreed with Gibbs: You Don't Waste Good.

He'd been furious when DiNozzo had been framed for the sexualized murder of a young woman – he knew Tony hadn't done it. Of anyone at that whole damn agency, Tony DiNozzo is the only one Tobias thinks truly incapable of murder. So yeah, it'd pissed him off when Tony got framed, when Sacks believed it, when McGee made that stupid comment to DiNozzo . . . but he'd done his job anyway. And then when Abby had figured it out and Tony had been let out of that cell, Tobias went home and bought some of that nice beer he'd seen Tony drink once at a bar, and turned up at DiNozzo's apartment with it. Tony answered the door in sweats and a t-shirt, looking like the college boy he pretended to be, and stared at Fornell in confusion before letting him in. They drank the first beer in silence, some black and white movie playing in the background, before Tony turned to him and asked him why he was there. Well, what he'd actually said was "You trying to get me drunk and spill my guts about the women I've apparently been murdering? That a new interrogation technique the Hoover building's trying out?" Tobias had stared at him, slightly horrified when he realized Tony was serious. "No, DiNozzo!" he'd snapped out, and then paused. More quietly, he added, "I'm here because I knew you didn't kill her, or assault her. And I know how it feels to be stuck behind bars for something you _know_ you didn't do, and I thought you might need company tonight." Even as he said it, Tobias was wondering where the hell Tony's team was, what their excuses were for not supporting their teammate. "Huh," Tony had replied contemplatively. "Well, thanks. For not thinking I'm a crazy rapist-murderer. And for the beer." And that was that.

They hadn't ever talked about it again, but there was a new levity in their jabs toward each other when they met up for cases. Tony'd even called him a few times when he needed an outside view. Fornell was honored to be a part of DiNozzo's extensive list of contacts. (He'd heard that in Baltimore, Tony could call up the gang leaders and get reliable information from them on murders. He was certain that Tony had contacts in each and every alphabet agency that he could call up for a favor at a moment's notice. There was a reason Gibbs always had DiNozzo deal with local LEOs.) So when Tobias heard about the bombing, he'd thought of Tony. And then when he heard about the coma, he ordered a pizza and had it delivered to the NCIS office. When he heard about the "you'll do," and Gibbs' departure for Mexico, he'd shown up at Tony's door with good Italian take-out and a very nice bottle of red wine. "I hear you got promoted. Congratulations, Tony," he'd said. "Gibbs didn't pass the torch properly, but I thought I'd try to celebrate it with you anyway." For one horrifying moment, he thought Tony might cry, but he'd pulled himself together, and they'd made a night of it.

When Tobias had shown up in Gibbs' basement to beg him to help with the case, he'd already been to Tony's apartment. In direct contrast with the showdown at Gibbs', all he'd managed to say was "DiNozzo, I could use your help" before Tony was ushering him in, pulling out a pad of paper, and getting case details. When Tony had heard that the guy had touched Emily, Tobias knew that Tony would work for however long it took to catch him just from the expression in his eyes. Tony's whole demeanor had sharpened, and it had stayed that way until they figured out who the original bank robbers were.

Somewhere along the line he'd earned DiNozzo's loyalty, and Tobias would do his best to repay that. If repaying that meant bashing Gibbs' ego and pride into more manageable sizes, well, Tobias could do that. And if he couldn't, he was more than willing to enlist Diane. . .

* * *

><p>He'd made it all the way to the Hoover building on autopilot, thinking over the NCIS situation. And it was a situation. The files he had collected, originally intending to hand them off to Tony, would go a long way in proving Gibbs right in his suspicions about the Director. Fornell wasn't entirely sure why he was the one dealing with the Jenny Shepard situation. He guessed it had something to do with his close ties to the MCRT of NCIS. To be fair, Tony had mentioned that the Director was running an op and it didn't seem to be on the up and up. She'd had Tony out running surveillance and leading the MCRT, and wasn't letting him talk to his team about it. (Why they hadn't picked up on something was beyond Tobias. It'd been apparent to him about the third time he saw Tony post-Gibbs' <em>retirement<em> that there was something going on, and he'd obliquely pestered Tony about it until he had most of the story). So Tobias had done some poking of his own, with the name Tony had given him – La Grenouille. He'd dinged someone's radar, and had a lovely visit from some men in black. He was guessing CIA, since the man was an arms dealer. The men in black, thankfully sans mind-wipe tool, had questioned him for nearly an hour about why he was looking into the guy, and then seemed to decide he was on the up (up of what, he hadn't the foggiest). They'd handed over a file, and told him to "Deal with Shepard." And now it looked like she was making a move of her own, trying to bounce Tony into an undercover op without him asking too many questions. He could even guess who the mark would be – La Grenouille had a daughter a little younger than Tony who lived in DC. If the Director had her way, Tobias was pretty sure DiNozzo would be dating her before the end of the month, probably without backup. _Christ what a clusterfuck_.

He stared at the file for a while, weighing his options. He'd told Gibbs he would show up tonight with this intel. And he would. But Fornell knew, without a doubt, that if Tony had come into information like this about _his _director, he'd be the first person Tony would call. But Tony had a case. And. . . _Oh hell, Tobias. You know if you don't tell him about this before you tell Gibbs, you'll feel guilty about it. And Tony will accidentally make you feel worse, because it won't occur to him that you should have told him first. Because DiNozzo doesn't come first for anyone, in his book. And despite McGee, David, and whats-her-name-the-probie pretty much explicitly stating that DiNozzo comes first, Gibbs made it clear he didn't. And whoever called Tony Gibbs' loyal St. Bernard wasn't that far off. Gibbs says jump, Tony says how high. Not that he doesn't stand up to Gibbs, back him down off things, redirect him, _manage_ him. . . Well. I'm going to put DiNozzo first, too. _

He pulled out his cellphone, and called Tony.


	8. Chapter 8: Tony Inner Monologues

Tony walked out of autopsy briskly. Ducky's kind silence in combination with McGee's awkward concern, coupled with this morning's scene in the bullpen – his team's (_his team! Him, Tony DiNozzo!)_ staunch defense of him, their anger and concern. . . well, they were going to do him in faster than any of the other ways people had tried to kill him since he became a cop. _Since I was ordered to live in a hospital isolation room, drowning in my own lungs._ He paused in front of the elevator door, and for a moment, he saw a hundred memories of him and Gibbs in that elevator: _Tony, as far as I'm concerned, you're irreplaceable . . . DiNozzo! What the hell were you thinking? . . .You sure you're ready to come back? You've got another week of sick leave . . . Hey – get your head in the game_, and a thousand headslaps saying, "Focus, DiNozzo – and yes, I see you," and a very few memories of strong fingers grasping his chin _"Hey. _Icare._ We'll get through this."_ His eyes burned, and he shook his head before about facing and heading for the stairs.

He let the door slide closed behind him quietly, and climbed up a flight of stairs, and then part of another, stopping on the landing halfway between the lobby and the bullpen. Tony sat on the top step, and let his head gently thump back onto the stairwell. He glanced at his watch. Three minutes to pull it together, and then go see what McGee wanted. _DiNozzos do not cry,_ he thought, and grinned wryly. _And Anthony DiNozzo Junior doesn't cry at work. Once he gets home, well. All bets are off. _He thought back over the morning – _God, is it really only one?_ – and was amazed and humbled and fucking terrified by the faith his team had shown in him. He resolutely quashed the echo of his father's voice in his head. He was blindsided by the voice that filled it instead. _Forget about it, McGee. He's still alive. My desk, my team. _Tony winced, shoved that voice down toward his father's, and let his teams' words hold that box closed: _if you wanted to speak to him, you could have called . . . you are no longer our boss. To treat my boss in this manner, as though the work he has done means nothing, is disrespectful . . . Did you think that we would allow you to screw him over . . . I am notifying you now that I will be requesting a transfer to a team that recognizes the worth of all of its agents . . . you are no longer our boss . . . With all due respect, sir, stick it . . . It's my job now to stay on Tony's six, to protect him when he runs into danger to keep the rest of us out of it . . . We are yours no longer._ He let their words wash over him, soothing the rough places. _I am not a placeholder to them. They want _me_, Tony DiNozzo. They appreciate me – what I did, what I'm doing. They respect me. They see beyond my masks – given McGee's stab at comfort, probably more behind my masks than I'd like. Kate never did – and Kate is a bad place to go, brain. Gibbs may have gotten blown up, but he is not _dead. A sly voice responded, _No, Gibbs isn't dead, but your boss? The man you followed out of Baltimore with the promise that he would always have your six? That man? He _is_ dead. _Tony frowned. _No. He's still got some memory problems, can't remember us well. He'll get there. And I am _so_ not arguing with myself; that's definitely not a good sign. And there's nothing I can do about Gibbs now anyway. Not his team anymore, so I doubt he'll let me in. Abby though. I need to check in on Abs today. Somehow I think that pointing out I'm not going anywhere will not go over well, in light of this morning. Take him off that pedestal, Abs. He's only human, and you'll only end up more hurt. _Tony deliberately ignored that part of him that was right alongside Abby with that pedestal. Gibbs, Tony knew, had feet of clay, but that had never made him any less of a superman. He glanced back down at his watch. _Okay, DiNozzo. Game on. Focus on the case. Deal with Gibbs later – but check in with the Director, because you do need to know what precisely is going on with your employment _before_ you get around to writing up reports. _

Tony walked out of the stairwell and into the bullpen. If McGee had chosen to look up, he'd have seen Tony, but he didn't – _I need to teach him to be more aware of his surroundings. Usually, I only pretended not to have noticed Gibbs_ – and so Tony continued to overtly survey him. McGee looked like classic McWorry, which Tony would do his best to nip in the bud. Though he should probably track down the rest of his team, too – where were Ziva and Lee? As if his thought had triggered it, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. _Lunch with Palmer to get him out of Autopsy so Ducky could have private chat,_ read the text from his newest probie. Well. Looked like the Duck-man had noticed that mutual-awareness thing, too. He'd give Ziva another five minutes before he called her. She should be back from the crime scene by now. He tried not to let his mind wander down the road of where she'd been the last time she'd been late, and instead focused his inner mantra down to: _I trust Ziva. She would call me if she needed help. She trusts me. I trust Ziva. She would call me if she needed help. She trusts me_. With that rather pleasant chain of thoughts ringing through his head, Tony sauntered over to McGee.

"McGee. You needed me?"

"Yeah, Boss," he said, holding up a 'one moment please' finger. He returned it to the keyboard, his fingers flying. Tony walked over to his desk to wait. Someone, and he didn't know who, but he would guess it was one of the other teams' SFA – they'd become good friends as they groaned about the paperwork they had to fill out, and about checking reports, and all the stuff their lead agents delegated to them (and they'd all agreed Tony had it worst) – had carefully reorganized the bullpen, so that it was back to the way it had been. They'd even managed to get his file system correct.

He sat down in his chair in time to look up at McGee as he came over to report his findings to Tony. "So. I matched our db to a missing person's report, which is hinky, as Abby would say, because the report is four years old, and the guy definitely wasn't military. I put in a call to get a copy of the original file, and I've got the address of the last person to see him." McGee flourished a piece of paper in front of him.

"Nice, McGee. But none of that made it necessary to call me up from Autopsy. Not that I minded, of course. Ducky was silent, which is a terrible turn of events, and made me _very_ nervous." Tony grinned at McGee and waited. Whatever it was, McGee looked like he wanted to both blurt it out and never say it which meant one of two things: he had a crazy, geeky theory about the case, or he was worried the report would bother Tony, which suggested it was about parental abandonment. Or both. Sweet of him to worry, but as Tony had discovered just that morning, he wasn't twelve anymore. He wasn't being left behind in Hawai'i, and he had a team who was his family. Dad had left, yeah, but the other kids weren't going to leave _him_. And that meant everything.

They were still staring at each other in their silent stand-off, McGee trying to figure out how best to phrase things and Tony waiting for McGee to spit it out, when the elevator doors opened, and Ziva rushed out.


	9. Chapter 9: And the Case Plays On

Ziva growled at the other drivers on the road. She had finally realized that the largest reason Tony and McGee gave her a hard time about her driving was not because they were afraid for their lives, but because they assumed that her defensive driving meant she did not feel safe here. She had made a stab at driving like everyone else, but on days like today, she wished she had not made that resolution. It was very frustrating to sit in a traffic jam (she had made sure she knew that idiom!) and see all the places she could maneuver the van and yet not do it. She took a deep breath, let it out, and repeated. _I will not dart out there. I will stay in my lane. I will not shoot the tires of that car._ Her frustrations had truly started when the LEO's had not wanted to leave her at the scene alone, but they had not been interested in helping her search for the bullet. Ziva understood procedure to a point, but it was ridiculous. Her LEO mantra was _Tony used to be a cop. Be nice. Maybe one of them could turn into Tony. Tony likes cops. Be nice_. It had failed her. She was certain Tony had never been as deliberately obtuse as those men had been. She finally called NCIS dispatch and got a truckload of FLETC students out to help her search. And they had, and she now had in her possession the evidence bag that contained the bullet. She tried not to think about the case of evidence bags in the back – apparently, new FLETC students bagged and tagged everything.

And there! Ziva took a hard right turn to come up the back way to NCIS. She signed the van back in, dropped the evidence off with the evidence bunnies – _if Tony finds out that his name for them has caught on with me, I will never hear the end of it_ – and hightailed it onto the elevator. She paused for a moment, trying to decide if "hightailed" was the correct word – she was pretty sure it was – and if so, where it had come from. She decided to put it down on her list of "idioms to look up later." Ziva mentally urged the elevator to hurry. Tony would be worrying and trying to pretend he was not, and she really should have called him when she left the scene. She exited the elevator in the bullpen in a rush, and stopped short when she entered her section. Tony and McGee were having a stare-down at Tony's desk.

They turned to look at her in concert. She stared back. Then Tony shook his head, grinned, and said, "McGee. Spit it out. Because although I would love to stand around and stare at each other some more – and who doesn't want to stare at me? – we do have a case to solve, and this isn't solving it."

Ziva grinned. Tony in all his irrepressible glory was back. Of course, she was well aware it was just a mask, but the mask being back told her two things: Tony was more affected by Gibbs' return then he was letting on, and that Tony wanted to make sure they all had a rock while things got figured out. She glanced at McGee, who looked vaguely pained. He had made great strides since she'd joined the team, but he still did not always understand the need for the mask. Or why she and Tony never wanted to _talk it out_. As she watched, McGee shook his head slightly, and swallowed. Visibly.

"So, the vic's name is Adam Peters. He was reported missing from Detroit, Michigan four years ago. Like I said, the Detroit PD is sending us the missing person's file. He was reported missing by his girlfriend, after she hadn't heard from him in a week. He was living with his parents at the time, and they never reported him missing. As far as I can tell, they were questioned but that was it. Peters had a history of running away from home, and was taken out of the home for two years when he was 13. A judge declared his parents fit, and he was returned to them. I pulled up the most recent phone number and address for the girlfriend, Trina Simons. She lives just outside DC." McGee gave his report quickly, skimming over the part Ziva was most interested in – the running away often before the age of 13, and removal from the home – in what she assumed was deference to Tony's feelings, because his shoulders had tensed imperceptibly as McGee spoke.

Ziva looked at Tony's shoulders, and then at McGee, who looked like he felt terribly guilty for stressing Tony further. "Do we know why he was in uniform?" It seemed like a reasonable distraction, and obviously one they would have to answer if they wanted to keep the case.

"No," McGee answered. "I don't know why the uniform."

Tony opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, his desk phone rang. He picked it up. "Special Agent DiNozzo," he said, and then grinned. "Abs! Why didn't you call my cell?" He paused, and looked confused for just a moment. "Yeah. About that, Abby. We'll be down in a moment. McGee will be sending you some information before we head down there." He hung up, and stared at the phone for a moment.

"Boss?" McGee said, "What's up?"

"Not sure yet, but Abs got a hit. With a different name, and from the DNA database. Send her the two photos you used, please." Tony grimaced a bit. "We have a case of double identities."

Ziva frowned. "Maybe one of us should go pick up the girlfriend?" She would be able to identify Peters, if it was Peters in their autopsy.

Tony looked considering for a moment, then shook his head. "We'll check out Abby's lead first. See what it gets us. We will be picking up the girlfriend. McGee, can you find a photo of her?"

He nodded. "Yes Boss. But not right away. I could do it while you talk to Abby, but it might take a while."

Tony shrugged. "Won't hurt to put it off for a half hour, and I want you in Abby's lab. Ziva, will you call the Probie and tell her I said that I hope her date was nice, and could she be back in the bullpen in thirty?" He turned on his heel and headed for the elevators. McGee typed franticly for a moment, and then scrambled after him.

Ziva stood in the silence of the bullpen for a moment. Interpersonal relationships were not her strongest point, and she really wasn't any good at comforting people. Protecting them, she could do. Ziva nodded decisively to herself. It was decided then. Until this case was over, she would keep Gibbs away from Tony, before he could hurt her team leader any more. Decision reached, she pulled out her cell phone. Had Tony really said Lee was on a _date_? It was the middle of the day! They had a case! What was she _thinking_?

Hanging up on Lee's spluttering, Ziva headed for the stairs, ready to join the rest of her team in Abby's lab. She slipped in through the sliding doors, looking at the screen around which everyone else was gathered. Three photographs were displayed: one from autopsy, one from McGee's missing person's file, and one was a military ID. Abby looked up. "Oh good! Ziva, you're here! I wasn't going to tell them anything until you all got here."

McGee grinned mischievously. "Does that mean we have to wait for Lee to get back from her lunch date with Palmer?"

Abby shook her head vigorously, pigtails bouncing. "Nope! She's not in the building so she doesn't count! Not that she doesn't count normally – Lee is nice. Very boring, but nice. Kind of timid, too."

Ziva shook her head, "You did not hear her this morning, Abby. She called Gibbs 'sir'. And she offered to help force the Director to keep Tony as Team Lead."

"_And_ she told Gibbs to 'stick it'," McGee said proudly.

They all jumped when Tony clapped loudly. "This is all very fun, people, but focus please. We can discuss Lee's frightening new propensity for bad-assery once the case is closed. Now, Abs, what do you have for me?"

Abby saluted, and Ziva had a brief flash of memory: Abby saluting Gibbs at his desk with the wrong hand, calling him ma'am. She shook her head to clear it as Abby began to speak. "So I ran the DNA, and got a match – meet Petty Officer Tom Simons. And then Tony said it was hinky, 'cause Timmy got a match too, only his is named Adam Peters. And then _I _said it was hinky, 'cause Major Mass Spec and the rest of the troops don't lie. I'm running the photo recognition software now, and you can't rush science, but eye-balling it says they look like the same person." She leaned back into Tony's side, and he hugged her shoulder.

"Nice work, Abs. Now we know we at least have jurisdiction, which solves one problem." Tony had a gleam in his eye that suggested he had an idea about the case, but was going to make them work it out themselves. Ziva let herself drift over the facts so far. Something was perched just out of reach. McGee looked just as frustrated as she felt. And then Ziva straightened. "Tony, what was the girlfriend's name?"

Tony smiled. "Trina Simons."

McGee jumped it, "Our Petty Officer has the same last name. Could be just a coincidence, but that seems unlikely. So the girlfriend helped him, and then reported him missing?"

Tony shrugged. "Not sure. Abby, pull up his service record. It should have next-of-kin listed."

They all watched as the screen filled with his record. There, on the next-of-kin line, was the name Trina Simons.


	10. Chapter 10: Lee and Palmer have a Date

"Thanks, Agent David," Michelle said into the dial tone. She looked across the table at Jimmy. "Would it kill them to say goodbye?"

Jimmy made a face. "They picked it up from Gibbs. When do you need to be back?"

She smiled at him. Though conventional advice suggested dating a coworker was a bad idea, it was working well for her so far. Jimmy understood the time constraints of her job, and it was great to see him at work - and really nice that work provided a ready-made excuse to spend time with him. "Half-hour. It sounds like things got interesting. She didn't say much, but she sounded distracted." Michelle shrugged. They were all distracted today, herself perhaps least. But the tension the rest of her team felt was bleeding over, and her shoulders had been tightening up all day. She felt like a wind-up toy wound too far with the key held tight, keeping the spring in place. The whole team was like that today. Lunch with Jimmy had been a nice respite, the tension decreasing, though it never completely left their shoulders.

"Well then, shall we walk back?" Jimmy stood up and offered her his arm. "Dr. Mallard should be done with Agent Gibbs by now."

They paid their bill and walked out the door. It would take the better part of their half-hour to walk back, but it was a nice day, sunny, if a little breezy. They had only been walking a few moments when Michelle finally managed to spit out the question that had been bothering her all morning - and frankly, since she'd joined the MCRT as their probie. "Jimmy, what was Gibbs like? Before he left, I mean."

Jimmy grimaced, and then laughed a bit. "I was terrified of him. Dropped things, couldn't finish my sentences . . . Tough. No-nonsense. But he cared about the team; a blind person could see that. Gerald, he was Dr. Mallard's assistant before I came, he interviewed me, and gave me some pointers on dealing with the MCRT. Some of the things were basic - don't interrupt Gibbs in interrogation, don't get between a Marine and his coffee . . . other things took me longer to believe. Some of that was about Ducky and Gibbs' friendship. But he told me that if anyone on the team was in danger, I should steer clear unless I had immediate help I could offer; that the team was the closest thing Gibbs had to family and he'd move hell and high water for them, and for Tony, Gibbs would do almost anything. Well, anything, really - except tell him that he cared, but maybe he did. Ducky said one time that actions speak louder than words in Gibbs' case, and Gibbs when Tony was hurt was a force to be reckoned with . . ." Jimmy trailed off.

Michelle watched his face for a moment. She couldn't fit the Gibbs she'd seen this morning, and the gruff man she'd very briefly worked with on those two cases, with the man Jimmy spoke of. Despite the frustration that colored his words, she could tell that Jimmy was hopeful that Gibbs would step back up to the plate where her boss was concerned. Well, she admitted to herself, Tony did tend to inspire devotion - even if he was not aware of it. She was trying to figure out a way to get the Director out of that office, and she knew that Tony truly hadn't believed Ziva at the scene - and if he knew they were serious, he would do everything in his power to stop them. Not because he trusted the Director (Michelle was pretty sure he didn't) but because he 'wouldn't want you to risk your careers. It's fine. I'll be fine. Leave it alone,' and he'd give one of his rare direct orders to them. 'Leave it alone. That's an order,' he'd say, face deadly serious, showing that side that made him one of the best investigators at NCIS. (Michelle had investigated her team after she'd been assigned to them in the hopes of better understanding her unconventional team. It hadn't helped her understand McGee's geek speak and freak outs, Ziva's constant threats and terrible driving, or Tony's movie quotes and the frat boy persona she'd heard about but not really ever seen, but it had given her a deep appreciation for the three of them as a well-oiled machine, and of Tony as a top-notch investigator, under-cover agent, and interrogator.) Michelle was pretty sure that it was Tony's father who'd left him with some deep-seated insecurities, and Agent Gibbs' abrupt departure, and more abrupt return certainly hadn't helped matters. He didn't think he was worth it, never mind the fact that his whole team would do almost anything to keep him safe. And safe, in their eyes, meant whole physically as well as emotionally. She sighed gustily, and Jimmy squeezed her shoulders briefly as they walked.

She looked up at him, and he shrugged. "Tony has always been nice to me. I mean, he teased me horribly when I started, but one day I was in the break room, and I realized that he was only like that with the team - that to other people, he was friendly but didn't let them in. And it put the teasing in a whole different light. God forbid we do something so un-manly as to admit we like each other," Jimmy made a face, "but when he calls me 'Autopsy Gremlin', as cheesy as it sounds, I know that's what he's saying. And I don't know if you noticed - if you can read him well enough to know - but every time the team compared him negatively to Gibbs, it really bothered him - because he admires Gibbs, yes, but mostly because he doesn't want to be Gibbs, you know? He's Tony, and that ought to have been enough for them. Gibbs is scary, but Tony . . . sometimes I think he's more scary, because most of the time he makes you forget that he's been an investigator longer than anyone, including Gibbs, and that he's damn good at what he does. And Tony really cares about the cases, the victims - usually people like that have already burned out, but he manages to walk that line. But Tony is dangerous, too. Maybe even more so than Ziva, 'cause you look at her and you _know_ she's dangerous, but Tony, you wouldn't see it until it was way too late." He wrinkled his nose, and Michelle tried hard not to think it was adorable. "Sorry. I'm rambling a bit. Gibbs just doesn't seem to be the same man he was. I'm wondering, and I think Ducky is too, if the damage hasn't healed all the way yet."

Michelle sighed, and slipped her arm around Jimmy's waist in a brief hug. They walked in silence a bit further, having detoured to walk along the Potomac. Tony had showed her this spot early on in her time with the team; he'd recommended it as a good place to sit and think. She didn't come down to the benches often, but she and Jimmy did try to schedule a 'coffee break' out here at least once a week. She looked toward her favorite bench, jaw dropping as she noted Tobias Fornell striding away, and Agent - what should she call him? - Gibbs sitting, staring at his coffee cup like it might hold the answers of the universe inside. "Jimmy," she hissed, "there's Gibbs. Lets go behind the bench - it doesn't look like he wants to be disturbed, and I don't want another confrontation with him."

Jimmy nodded, and they meandered around behind the bench, headed back to NCIS. Several seconds later, Gibbs rushed past them, not seeming to notice them as he slowed to a brisk walk and entered the building. Exchanging a bemused look, she and Jimmy headed inside as well, and split up, Jimmy taking the stairs down to Autopsy and Michelle walking up to the bull-pen, which seemed as good a place as any to meet the team.

She had been sitting at her desk, debating trying Abby's lab, for less than a minute when her team (and she still got a thrill thinking that – Michelle Lee, legal aid extraordinaire, on a _team_. Of _Agents._) returned, probably from Abby's lab, given the state of McGee's shirt, and the way Tony's shirt was rumpled.

"Lee and Ziva, you go together to pick up Ms. Simons. Ziva, fill Michelle in on the case as you go. Try not to break any traffic laws, please - especially with Ms. Simons in the car," Tony said to both of them, as they grabbed go-bags and Ziva grabbed keys. "McGee, I want you to work on those old police and court reports, as well as the file when it comes in. I'm going to Quantico to speak with the CO and anyone else I can get my hands on."

Ziva hunched her shoulders a bit at that, and Michelle agreed. The idea of Tony, who attracted trouble like no other, going off on his own to chat with a bunch of marines when they had NO idea what had happened to their vic, was more than a little disconcerting. "Ah, boss?" McGee. Bless him. "Boss, most of those files will take a while to get here, and I can access the ones online from my laptop in the car. Maybe I should come with you?"

Tony closed his eyes briefly, and sighed. "The rest of you want McGee with me as well, don't you."

Ziva nodded. "Yes. Tony, you attract trouble like honey attracts . . . whatever it attracts. McGee doesn't. Maybe if you are together, it will lessen the amount of trouble coming your way?"

Michelle grinned a bit at that. "Plus, Boss, Agent McGee pretty much declared his undying wish to watch your six earlier. Could you really deprive him of that?"

They all gaped at her for a moment, before Tony chuckled, slightly ruefully. "I'm beginning to think we might regret the day we helped you find that spine. Okay. McGee will be coming with me to Quantico. McGee, grab your ge - "

"On it, Boss," McGee grinned. "And my lap-top."

As they all piled into the elevator, Tony's phone shrilled. Muttering something about "the damn thing never shutting up," he pulled it out of his pocket and stared at the name on the screen before snapping it open. "Fornell," he greeted. "This is unquestionably not a FBI case. What the hell do you want?"

There was silence while they all tried to pretend they weren't staring at Tony in confusion. His face cycled through a few emotions so quickly Michelle couldn't identify them, and then he pursed his lips and made a considering noise in the back of his throat. He started to say something, and fell silent again, presumably listening to Fornell again. The elevator door opened, and they all stepped out, Tony still on the phone, listening to what sounded like a fairly long rant.

"Right," he finally said as they parted ways. "I'll be bringing McGee."

Ziva's head snapped back in alarm, and she and McGee exchanged a quick glance that Michelle was pretty sure went like this "You need me to go all ninja-chick?" "No, I think I got it covered. Why's Fornell calling him for a meet?" "No idea." They both looked at her, and she shrugged. "Don't know."

"Okay, thanks." Tony hung up, and looked startled to see them all still there. "Go on! Ziva, I promise it's not dangerous. Lee, you'll still have a team lead at the end of the day. McGee, you're with me all day long. I may have a project for you all when we get back, once we solve the case."

Grudgingly, she and Ziva moved off to pick up their sedan. Michelle took quick stock of the tension in Ziva's frame and the way she was moving like a predator again, and decided to buckle up and stay silent. Maybe pray. It was going to be a long car ride.


	11. Chapter 11: McGee Jumps to Conclusions

McGee was slightly horrified to discover his hands were shaking ever so slightly as he pulled up case files on his laptop. Tony's query to Fornell had thrown him, and he hadn't gotten any more information out of his team lead. _A meet? Where? With whom? Was that really Fornell? Why is he calling you? Is he another of your "contacts"? Tony! It's my job to keep you safe. Plus, Ziva will kill me and Abby hide the evidence if you get hurt. Lee might even provide them with an alibi. God. Tony, what are you wrapped up in? Is it whatever Madam Director has got you working on when she thinks we don't know? Honestly. How dumb does she think we are? Of course we're going to notice if our team lead goes missing. Or looks like he hasn't slept in a week. But since you're clearly under gag orders, we didn't ask you - didn't want to put you on the spot. But maybe you don't know that we know?_ McGee focused on stilling his hands, and then, without looking up, spoke. "Did Fornell call in relation to whatever the Director has you working on?"

He could see Tony stiffen minutely out of the corner of his eye. If he hadn't been watching for it, he probably wouldn't have noticed. McGee sometimes despaired of being as good at reading body language as his team lead or Ziva, but out of necessity he'd learned to read Tony - though he knew that when Tony really didn't want him to know something, he'd have no idea about it. Tony's lips pursed briefly, and then he sighed. "You don't need to know that, Tim. But if I go to the head while we meet with Fornell . . ." he trailed off, giving McGee a sly look. "I certainly can't stop him from sharing his suspicions. Which may or may not have been verified by an anonymous source from within NCIS."

Tim grinned, despite the foreboding that was beginning to fill him with nerves. Tony seemed more irrepressible with that one look, though he was under no delusions as to Tony's actual state of mind. _Not that I actually know his real state of mind. I just know he's not as . . . chipper as he seems right now._ "So he'll have information on this op we're not talking about?"

Tony nodded, and some of the Tony-ness seemed to drain out of him. "Yeah, and he said something about Gibbs. Don't know what that's about. He did tell me Gibbs went home for the day, and that our _lovely_ Madam Director is a manipulator, and that he'll have more information for us at the meet." Tony looked disgruntled at the information.

McGee agreed completely. "Did he say anything definite?"

"Nope." Tony, uncharacteristically for the tenor of their conversation, popped his "p" loudly, and McGee almost flinched.

He swallowed hard at his next thought. "Tony, what if it's a trap? I mean, I don't know why it would be, and I agree I'm probably borrowing trouble, but I didn't even think Fornell _liked_ you, let alone called you to warn you about stuff. Are you sure we don't need Ziva and Lee with us? I'm not much in the way of back-up on my own - we'd never let you do this without a set of eyes inside, a set outside, and accompaniment. That's two sets of eyes more than we have. And really, Boss, Ziva will kill me if you get hurt - probably with a paperclip. Then Abby will clean up all evidence. And after today, I'm pretty sure Lee would alibi them. So. Can we please call them in on this? Or some other agents?" Tim had been staring straight out the windshield, and at the slight choking sound Tony made, he whipped his head to the side. "Tony! Are you okay?" His concern melted rapidly into annoyance when he realized his partner - _his Boss_ - was in fact choking on his laughter.

"Little paranoid there, Probie?" McGee's heart soared. He might complain about the Probie nickname he'd gained, and sometimes it did truly rankle. But Tony didn't call him that anymore - McGee was pretty sure Tony was trying to make sure he didn't feel undermined (and that didn't make McGee flush in shame at _all_). When he did, it meant Tony was comfortable with him; being called Probie reminded him of the hero-worship he'd had going for Tony when he came to the DC office from Norfolk, and of the friendship that had grown out of Tony's slightly obnoxious brand of care, and reminded him that he was one of Tony's friends.

Tim sniffed imperiously. "No, Boss. Just trying to watch your six."

The genuine smile he got from Tony made him even surer of the decision he'd made just that morning to stand up for Tony, the constant underdog (even if everyone else seemed to think he had it made). "Fornell and I are," Tony paused for a moment, looking unsure, and for a wild moment Tim thought _they COULDN'T be dating. Right,_ before he continued. "Well, we're friends I guess. He heard about me from a friend I worked a case with in Philly, and followed my career. Offered me a job when I resigned Baltimore PD, but Gibbs had already hired me. Offered me a job again right before we added Kate. He's offered it a few more time since then. He's actually a good guy. Brought me beer after Chip." He looked uncertainly at Tim, as though waiting for him to start yelling about trusting the FBI, or something. "He wouldn't set me up."

Tim swallowed his instinctive, indoctrinated-by-Gibbs response of "The FBI is always out to get us", and looked at his Boss. Tony looked like he was worried that he had committed a cardinal sin by befriending Fornell, and now Tim was going to stop talking to him. _Oh Tony. For such a brilliant investigator, you really can't read our relationship well._ "Okay, Boss. I didn't know you were friends. I shouldn't have assumed."

He expected a bark about rules, but instead Tony just smiled again. "Don't worry about it Tim. Its not like we have some epic bromance or something."

"You'll only get to that stage if you marry and divorce the same woman."

Tony glanced wide-eyed at him before laughing heartily. Tim grinned in accomplishment as they pulled into the base, Tony's shoulders loosed of the tension that had plagued them all day.

Fornell looked up from his cup of coffee as the bell above the door chimed. It wasn't DiNozzo, so he turned his attention back to his coffee. He might not mainline the stuff like Jethro, but he did have a healthy respect for the power of caffeine. DiNozzo was bringing McGee to the meet, which told him several things: one, DiNozzo was possibly more trusting than Fornell had given him credit for, and two, Fornell would have to figure out how much McGee knew before dropping all this on the two. _God, DiNozzo. What a mess._

Fornell just barely managed not to jump when an arm was slung around his shoulders, and a familiar voice whispered, "So do we actually have to do this incognito, or are we good to go?" into his ear.

Since he could just make out McGee's stunned face standing outside the coffee shop, trying to look like he was waiting for someone and not staring at the his boss and the FBI agent who looked quite . . . cozy together, Fornell turned his face into Tony's cheek to whisper back, "Nope, we're all good. There might be a man-in-black over there, but they want me to share this information with you."

Tony grinned, the shit-eating irrepressible grin that drove Sacks crazy, and backed off enough to slide around to the other side of the table. He pulled his cell out and dialed. When the other end picked up, Tony barked, "McGee. In here. Now," and hung up. Outside, McGee flinched, and shoved his phone into his pocket.

He yanked a chair over to the edge of the table and sat, grumbling under his breath. Fornell couldn't hear him, but it looked like DiNozzo could. "Speak up, McGee," he said, grinning.

"How do you always know, Tony?" McGee whined. "I even managed to not say anything for once in my life and you _still _knew what I was thinking."

Tony smirked briefly, and turned back to Fornell. "McGee here thought I was about to admit a love affair between the two of us."

Fornell raised an eyebrow. McGee blushed, and that irrepressible grin showed back up on Tony's face.

"I'm going to the little boy's room, and then I'll get drinks for us - you look like you could use another coffee, Fornell. And if while I'm gone, things that McGee doesn't need to know might come up, all our asses will still be covered, because I'm not actually telling McGee anything," Tony said as he slipped out of his chair.

As soon as Fornell thought he was out of hearing range, he turned to McGee. "So how come you didn't notice your boss was running a second op?"

McGee glared. "We did. But he was clearly under gag orders and so we didn't want to ask him about it and put him in a tough place. Besides," McGee looked sheepish, "he's so good at knowing what we're up to we just assumed he knew we knew. I didn't realize he didn't know until we were driving here today. I don't know why the director thought we wouldn't notice - he looked like he was only sleeping a full night _maybe_ one in three. But whatever it is, it's paper files only, because I've been looking."

Fornell sat back. While the information certainly gave him a higher opinion of Tony's team, he still had several pointed questions to ask. _That should probably wait until after this La Grenouille thing is finished, Tobias. No sense in upsetting the balance they've created just yet. And they may have realized all this on their own. _Tobias looked at McGee. "Tony is a great man, and an even better investigator. I have several things that need saying to you and Officer David, but they'll have to wait."

McGee swallowed, and nodded. "Good. Someone should call us on it, because Tony won't and apparently, Gibbs doesn't care."

He huffed a soft laugh. "Your Madam Director has DiNozzo running an op for her that involves an international arms dealer, Rene Benoit, alias La Grenouille. So far, all she's had him doing is surveillance. Unfortunately, that surveillance has been undercover, without backup, and I'm afraid someone might notice him. More unfortunately, La Grenouille has a daughter, Dr. Jeanne Benoit, who works here in DC." McGee's eyes narrowed. "You can see where that will go. Not only does that daughter not have a clue about her father's true business, you and I know that Tony's playboy is a front. He would fall for her, or at least the idea of her. Most unfortunately, La Grenouille is a CIA handled arms dealer. The CIA has refused all NCIS requests for any surveillance or more covert ops in regards to La Grenouille. The operation is completely off the record and unsanctioned."

McGee looked furious. "She's ordered him on an unsanctioned op without backup?! Is she trying to get him killed?" he hissed. "Clearly it's personal. What happened?"

Fornell shrugged. "As far as I can tell, her father was accused of abetting La Grenouille and he committed suicide at some point. She doesn't believe he was involved, and blames La Grenouille for his death."

"And Tony's death? Who will take responsibility for that? Or would he just be listed as missing, assumed killed?" McGee was whispering harshly, looking like it was taking an effort to remain seated and quiet.

Fornell was glad to see it, that someone else was as infuriated with NCIS's director as he was. The CIA was involved only because she was threatening one of their assets. If they had to, they would kill DiNozzo themselves to get him out of the way. The director was clearly no help in protecting Tony. It was a relief to know that someone else was out there, keeping an eye on Tony, and maybe a better one - McGee spent much more time with him then Fornell could. "That's our job, McGee. Keep Tony safe."

"Right," McGee said. "It's okay for me to tell Ziva this?"

"Yes. But you might want to tell her when she's not around the director." Fornell grinned half-heartedly. McGee wrinkled his nose in agreement.

"And I can't tell Abby, because she can't keep a secret," McGee mused. "Ziva and I will have to discuss Lee, though after today . . ." he trailed off, then looked down at the table, fighting a grin. "I assume the alphabet city is buzzing?"

Fornell nodded. "Word is you want a transfer to the FBI?"

McGee shrugged. "If Tony's demotion stands. But did you hear what Lee said to Gibbs?"

He shook his head slowly.

"'With all due respect, sir, stick it.'" McGee grinned proudly as Fornell gaped, and then grinned.

"Didn't you say that to a deputy director?"

"Yeah. And she knew _exactly_ what she was calling him when she said 'sir'."

The two sat in companionable silence, watching Tony juggle three cups of coffee as he returned to the table.


	12. Ducky has a Surprising Evening

Ducky looked up from his notes as the doors to Autopsy swished open, and young Mr. Palmer walked in. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Jimmy began speaking rapidly.

"So Michelle and I are seeing each other. It's not super serious, yet, but it might get there. And I'm really sorry I didn't tell you about it but I wasn't sure what you'd think and we work together and I didn't want to disappoint you," said Jimmy, his words slurred together from the speed at which he was speaking.

"My dear boy! Disappointed? I am glad you have found someone who makes you happy," Ducky smiled, and continued silently _and given the number of times I have endeavoured to NOT catch you two at it, she clearly makes you 'happy'._ "Furthermore, if you were worried about Jethro's Rule 12, I believe two things about it: one, it was brought about by a woman sitting at a desk upstairs and the appalling way she treated him after things ended, and two, Jethro is not your boss. I am. And although you work together, she's not properly your co-worker."

Palmer smiled, that goofy grin that had so endeared him to Ducky when they first met. "Thank you, Ducky," he said sincerely.

Ducky waved him off, and they began to work in companionable silence until the autopsy doors slid open again. This time, it was Jethro entering. He looked . . . well, Ducky hadn't really seen this look on him before, but he looked flustered.

"Look, Duck. My house, when you're done? ," Jethro paused, and Ducky could watch him make the decision to continue, "I have some things I want to share with you. Fornell is coming over for dinner later this evening. If you wanted."

Ducky stared politely. _Well. This is something new. I don't know of anyone who's received that blatant an invitation from Jethro. I guess there is only one thing I can do. _"I shall be there, Jethro. Perhaps I could bring a salad, to ensure your continued health?"

He looked slightly disgusted at the idea of a salad, but acquiesced as he turned and walked back out of autopsy.

Palmer stared at the door for a moment, before turning to stare at Ducky. Ducky stared back, and then shrugged. "Jethro is not one for many words, is he?"

Palmer chuckled briefly, shaking his head, before turning back to his work. Allowing himself a few moments to push all thoughts of Jethro to the back of his head, Ducky did the same.

He pulled up in front of Jethro's house at five o'clock, Jimmy having assured him that he could take care of things in Autopsy, and that he would give Ducky a call if they got another body. He sat in the drive for a moment, before deciding that deciding on a plan of attack would have to wait until after he saw whatever Jethro wanted him to see.

Ducky opened his car door just as Jethro opened the front door of his house. "Was starting to wonder if you were gonna come in," he mumbled, holding the door open as Ducky walked up the steps.

Fully expecting to head into the basement, Ducky was startled when Gibbs instead directed him to the living room. There, spread out on his coffee table, was an assortment of photo albums and boxes. "Have a seat, Duck. Bourbon?"

Deciding once again that he'd be better off letting Gibbs run the show, Ducky nodded, and waited. Taking a sip from the mug he was handed, he turned toward the table. Jethro dropped onto the couch next to him.

"Once upon a time, I had a family. My wife, Shannon, and daughter, Kelly," he said, pulling open a photo album. "I married Shannon straight out of training. I met her on a train right out of high school in my hometown, and I fell in love right away. She taught me the rules - one of hers was 'Never date a lumberjack,' and I think I didn't wear plaid for a year after that," Jethro chuckled, sounding a little congested. "I've never met anyone who could make me laugh like she could."

He turned the pages of the album slowly. Ducky watched as the two young people grew older, saw Shannon as a beautiful bride and Jethro looking stunned. There was a photo of Jethro carving something, looking up to smile at the photographer. One of Shannon, handing a groggy looking Jethro a mug of coffee. Shannon and Jethro standing outside their home on base. A dog. Shannon standing, hands protectively held over her womb. Jethro carrying a pregnant Shannon, the two of them laughing heartily. Shannon in a hospital bed, sweaty and beautiful, Jethro's hand in a vice grip, as he sat wincing at her side.

He set that album down, and took a swig of his bourbon. "And then we had Kelly. Our beautiful little girl. Smart as a whip. I love that little girl with all I've got," Jethro swallowed hard, and picked up another album. Ducky's eyes watered, and he took another sip from his mug. A newborn baby, squalling out her displeasure to the world. Shannon rocking the baby on the porch. Jethro playing with a slightly older baby, pulling faces. A little girl with wispy hair taking her first steps. An older man who had to be Jethro's father tossing a toddler up in the air. A small child biking off into the distance, Jethro standing behind her. The three of them laughing together at the beach, in their house, at a park . . . Jethro and Kelly sanding a boat together. Kelly covered in mud, laughing. Horseback riding together. Kelly on her first day of school. Hugging Jethro goodbye as he left for the Gulf. A tongue peeking out as Kelly worked on a letter to her daddy. Kelly growing older, Shannon and Jethro growing slightly older, but all of them looking happy. And then the photo's stopped. "They were murdered, Duck. Shan saw something she shouldn't have, and she did the right thing, and she and my baby girl were killed for it."

Ducky swallowed hard. This was not what he had expected. "Thank you for sharing them with me, Jethro. They were beautiful, both of them. I know that nothing I say will make it better, but I'm so sorry. Their lives should not have ended like that."

Jethro took a deep breath and let it out. "Yeah, well. Thanks all the same. I should have shared them with you a long time ago, Duck. They deserve to be remembered. Shan would have been pissed as hell at me for hiding them away like that." He set the photo album down gently, almost reverently, and Ducky was reminded of the way Jethro sanded his boats, all gentle motion. And as Jethro downed his mug of bourbon, Ducky thought about the way Jethro always drank when he worked on the boats, and then always destroyed them before they could be completed. The way he tried to include the team members in the boats, but couldn't quite bring himself to finish them, or let them in on how he got them out of the basement.

The two men sat in silence, Ducky slowly paging through the albums Jethro had set out, looking at the life of a man he'd never had the privilege of meeting. As he closed the last one, and tried to surreptitiously wipe his eyes, Jethro caught his eye. "Thanks," he said quietly. Ducky nodded.

They sat in silence together a while longer. There were many types of silence Ducky associated with Jethro, but this one, brand new, was his favorite. While it was colored bittersweet, the silence spoke of contentment. To have given his friend this gift, Ducky thought, was a powerful thing.

Jethro spoke abruptly. "Tobias is coming over. He's got some info on the director for me. I'd like you to be here. A second opinion would be good."

Ducky nodded, and then twisted his mouth. "Spit it out, Duck," Jethro growled, but the tone only made Ducky grin - it was so familiar, and dare he say it - dear?

"I don't suppose you know if the info on the director has anything to do with whatever our dear boy has been working on?"

"Our dear boy, Duck?" Jethro paused, and Ducky could almost watch him rifling through patchy memories, trying to decide who "our dear boy" referred to, and then, "Oh hell. What's DiNozzo up to now?"

"I couldn't say, Jethro. He can't talk about it." Ducky glanced over at Jethro, and despite his anxiety about the team, about whatever Anthony was doing, he was cheered to see a familiar set to Gibbs' jaw - the one that said the come hell or high water, he _would_ find out what was going on and set it all to rights.


	13. Chapter 13: Ziva and Lee Go For a Drive

Hey all! Sorry for the long wait - I'll try to be better about regular updating now that my life is a little more under control.

* * *

><p>Ziva had been driving in tense silence for nearly twenty minutes before she noticed Lee's fidgeting. She watched out of the corner of her eye as their probie opened her mouth, and then closed it again three times. Finally, Lee swallowed and ventured, "You think they'll be okay?"<p>

She rolled her shoulders, trying to disperse the tension gathered there. "McGee is a capable agent. And Tony is . . ." she trailed off, not sure how to define Tony.

The corner of Lee's mouth quirked up. "Yes," she agreed.

They sat in silence for several long and stretching seconds. Lee pursed her lips, and then burst out, "But he always gets into trouble!"

Ziva nodded. "But Tony has . . . how do you say it . . . depths we have not seen." She did not say that she didn't know where those depths had come from. She knew more about Tony's history than anyone on the team except for Gibbs (and she wasn't sure what Gibbs knew and what Gibbs _knew_) but Mossad's best efforts on Tony's dossier had gaping holes. She knew that some of them were semi-off-the-grid undercover operations during his time as a police officer, and others (that made her grind her teeth and think up new and excruciating tortures) were hospital stays while Tony was a child, but there were others that she, and Mossad, had not been able to explain. When she started with NCIS, she had wanted to plug those holes with information, but the more time she spent with Tony, the less she wanted to do so. For one thing, he was her partner – she knew he would always,_ always_ back her up, and prying into his history when it had been so carefully hidden seemed like a violation of that trust. For another, she wanted Tony to tell her on his own – to trust her with his own secrets, to let his mask down with her. That yearning had led most of NCIS to think that she wanted him in her bed, and while Ziva was not unaware of Tony's sexual appeal, she was also aware that he wore the playboy as a mask to protect himself (she wasn't sure from what) and if she took him up on the offers he had made over the years, it would show him that she wasn't looking past that mask, and destroy the trust they had so carefully built up. Mostly she wanted Tony to be himself with her, whatever that might look like. She shook her head lightly. She was fairly certain that some of those blank spots in his history had been spent training with _someone_ – he was too good at holding himself back to have learned it on his own. She looked over at Lee, who was clearly considering those depths the team had only seen hints of in times of duress.

"Um," Lee started, and then backtracked, "Uh, I just. You know that op we don't know about?"

Ziva had to consciously keep from grinding her teeth. Jenny, who had been her first friend in America, at NCIS, was up to something and she was using Tony. _Unacceptable_, her mind supplied. "Yes," Ziva all-but growled the response.

Lee shrunk back a little, but continued, "Do you think that's what the call was about?"

"I do not know!" snapped Ziva. In the back of her head, she heard Tony saying, "Now Ziva, play nice with the other kids. Not her fault," and she sighed internally. "I am not angry with you," she continued reluctantly, "I am angry with the situation. I am," Ziva wrinkled her nose at the next confession, "I am worried that Tony has too much in his bowl and while I trust him not to make a mistake, I do not think he is sleeping enough or eating enough." In her head, she continued, _And I made it worse by deliberately leaving things undone, making life harder for him, being harsh on him because I _knew _there was something else going on, something he was not telling me, and I was hurt he did not trust me enough to tell me what was going on, even though I know all about _'need to know basis'_ and keeping secrets._ Ziva sighed.

They pulled up in front of a small house. The garden in front was well tended, and the red paint on the door looked new. Ziva rang the bell, and heard a woman yell, "Just a minute." She and Lee waited quietly on the stoop, and she looked around at the neighborhood. The homes were small, and the gardens well tended. It looked friendly – cozy, even. _Just what I imagined America would look like, even if I knew better_, Ziva thought. She was brought back to the present by the front door opening.

A young woman looked out at them, and Ziva could tell the moment she noticed the guns and badges. The woman swallowed. "Can I help you?"

Ziva nodded, "We are looking for Trina Simons?"

The woman sighed. "That's me. Why don't you come on in?"

Ziva entered, and Lee followed. The inside of the house was as well kept as the outside, furniture clean if well used. The three sat down in the kitchen, and Ziva began speaking quietly. "My name is Officer Ziva David. That is Probationary Agent Michelle Lee. We are with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. You are listed as next-of-kin for Petty Officer Tom Simons. I am sorry to tell you that he has been murdered." Ziva watched as the color drained from Trina's face. Ziva glanced at Lee, and nodded toward the kitchen sink. Amazingly, Lee understood the brief glance, and got up to get Trina a glass of water. _Small comfort that it will be,_ Ziva thought harshly. _I hate doing these._

Trina accepted the glass of water, and closed her eyes. "What happened?"

"He was found this morning by a hiker. We need your help to determine a timeline. I know that this is a lot to ask, but would you come into NCIS so we can interview you there? We have several questions, and are also worried about your safety," Ziva finished, excusing the white lie in her head. They did not know if she was in any danger, so Ziva was going to assume she was.

Trina nodded shakily. "I – yes. Yes, of course," she took a sip of water, and Ziva watched as she began to cry silently. _I wish Tony were here. He's so much better at people than I am_. She reached out and placed her own hands on Trina's, squeezing lightly.

"Is there someone we could call for you?" asked Lee quietly.

Trina shook her head. "We haven't lived here that long, and none of my friends are people I could call for this . . ." she trailed off, and heaved a sob before squaring her shoulders. "Do I need anything beyond my purse?"

"Why don't you pack an overnight bag, and that way if we need you to stay, it will not be a problem?" Ziva suggested. "If you need to stay overnight, NCIS will put you in a hotel."

A hurried packing job, and several deep and shaky breaths later, Trina was ready to go. Ziva and Lee waited while she locked the door, and they headed for the car.

* * *

><p>They arrived at NCIS, and Ziva escorted Trina through security. She led her to a conference room, and settled her in a chair before asking, "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee, tea?"<p>

Trina shook her head. "Can we just," she paused, looking lost, "get on with it?"

"Of course. Although we matched DNA, I would like you to identify the man in this photo for me." Ziva slid a photograph of Petty Officer Simons across the table.

She nodded as several tears slid down her cheeks. "Yeah. That's Tom. I – just – what happened?"

Ziva hesitated. She wanted to give Trina answers, but she also needed to find out about this 'Adam Peters'. "Before I answer that, Ms. Simons, I have a few questions for you. When did you last see your husband?"

"On Friday morning. He had weekend exercises, and he was supposed to be off today. He said he would stay at a hotel Sunday night and drive home in the morning."

"When did you last speak to him?"

"Saturday, in the evening. Dinner-time. He had a few minutes free and he called me."

Ziva nodded. "Did he seem worried about anything? Upset?"

Trina started to answer, and paused. "Well. Not really. He said he thought someone was watching him, but he never saw anyone. Tom thought it was stress – the project he was working on wasn't confidential, but it was important, and it had to be finished before Monday." Her voice wavered, and Ziva slid the box of tissues closer. She plucked one out, and worried it between her hands. "He just seemed stressed, you know?"

Ziva sat for a moment with her, and then asked, "What can you tell me about Adam Peters?"

Trina's head jerked up. "Adam? I – what?"

"You reported him missing four years ago, Ms. Simons. Did you ever see him again?"

She looked away. "Why are you asking me about Adam?"

Ziva tried to think about how Tony would handle this situation. "We know that Adam and Tom were the same person, Ms. Simons. Whatever you can tell us will help in the investigation." Trina's eyes were wide, and what color there had been in her cheeks drained completely. "You won't be in trouble. Please tell me about Adam?"

Trina shrugged her shoulders, and wiped her eyes again, and began speaking.


	14. Chapter 14: Abby's Labby

Abby grinned at the screens. She loved it when bits and pieces fell into place. The Detroit Police's forensics department had DNA on file for the Peters' case, and she now had conclusive evidence that Peters and Simons were the same person. Or identical twins. But probably the same person, since neither had siblings. Unless – Abby shook her head, disregarding it as a viable theory, even while letting her imagination run wild: maybe Peters had a twin who was adopted at birth, stolen from the hospital. Then when Ms. Simons had met Tom, he'd reminded her of her boyfriend who'd gone missing, and they'd fallen in love and gotten married and now he was dead. That made Ms. Simons into something of a black widow – but she doubted she was eating her boyfriends.

Abby chuckled quietly, and sat back down to work on the paperwork she'd set down when McGee came to visit. Major Mass Spec whirred in the background, and the lab computer was running known striations against the bullet found at the scene. She'd narrowed the gun down to a 9mm, and she was pretty sure it was a Glock – the weapon Tony had used when she met him back in Baltimore, actually. It seemed pretty unlikely the bullet would be on record, unless the gun was registered to a police officer or it had been used in a crime. She was desperately curious about the "hinky-ness" of the case with the double identity, but she was too much of a scientist to actually look at what they had in the case file. When they needed her to look the whole thing over, she would. But until then, she wouldn't take the chance that she was going to influence her thinking by satisfying her curiosity.

She was deep in paperwork – what a strange theme for the day, she mused briefly – when the video feed between her lab and autopsy crackled. She stretched her arms above her head, twisting her spine until it cracked, and then flicked her camera on. Palmers' somewhat anxious face looked back at her.

"Jimmy?" Abby asked, confused. "Is everything alright?"

He looked around for a moment, and then leaned closer to the camera. It was slightly disconcerting to watch. "Gibbs just left," he said quietly. "And he _invited_ Dr. Mallard for dinner. _Invited._ Asked. Didn't bark. Or growl."

Abby gaped back at him, aware in the back of her mind that she must look superbly unattractive on Jimmy's screen. "What?" she finally managed to spit out.

"Yeah. And when Dr. Mallard offered to bring a salad, he said 'sure,'" Jimmy managed to sound even more incredulous than he had merely seconds before.

Abby felt her eyebrows raise without her permission. "Hinky."

Jimmy nodded. "Dr. Mallard just stepped out for a moment, but I had to tell someone and the team is out."

"Not gonna text your lover-girl?" Abby teased.

Jimmy turned red. "How do you know?" he squeaked.

Abby chuckled. "Next time you have a tryst in autopsy, Jimmy, remember that there is a camera feed to my lab. That you have to _turn off_ to disconnect. Or are you into exhibitionism? Either way, I certainly got an eyeful. Are you the reason there are suddenly stashes of condoms in strange places around here? 'Cause you should know that the rumor mill blames Tony for that, despite the fact that he barely has time to go home to sleep these days, let alone pick someone up."

Grinning at the absurd color Jimmy had turned, Abby disconnected the feed, and began to laugh. She was pretty sure she'd seen Ducky opening the doors to Autopsy as the camera had faded out.

She had to admit that aside from the ribbing she'd just given Jimmy, his call from Autopsy had contained valuable information. Gibbs had invited Ducky for dinner? Asked, even? And said 'okay' to a salad? A slow smile began to form. If Gibbs was asking Ducky to dinner, he'd be explaining himself to someone. And figuring out a plan of attack. 'Cause if Gibbs thought he could apologize to her before he made things right with Tony, he had another think coming. Abby Sciuto would not bend on this.

She had lost track of time in her paperwork again (she really needed to start working on her paperwork more regularly – this was absurd) when Lee slipped into the lab. Lee was a fairly amusing shade of pink.

"Interesting chat with Palmer?" Abby smirked.

"Text, yes," she swallowed, but continued with aplomb, "Ziva sent me to find out what you've got? Trina Simons is in Conference 2, and Ziva's doing the interview."

Abby got up and checked her machines. "DNA confirmation that Adam Peters and Petty Office Simons are the same person. Were the same person. How does the verb tense work there? I mean, they are both dead. 'Cause 'they' is one person . . . this is why I do forensics, not English. Anyway. Nothing else yet. Running what I've got from Autopsy, and the photos and evidence. The bullet striations are a long shot, but I'm running them anyway. It takes between 24 and 36 hours to run the whole database, and I'm only at hour 4. I am running DC-area guns first, but then it's a free-for-all. Well, not a free-for-all. There's an algorithm that determines distance and patterns and you aren't listening to me."

Lee shook herself. "Sorry. You might try to run Detroit area guns next? That's where Peters lived before he became Simons," she shrugged. "I think I might try tracing his history as Simons. DiNozzo and McGee went to talk to his CO, but they won't be back because Fornell wanted a meet, and I don't want to interrupt just to find out whatever they'll report when they get back . . ." Lee trailed off, looking at Abby in confusion.

"Fornell? What are they doing with Fornell?" Abby tried not to screech, she really did. From Lee's wince, she hadn't succeeded.

"I don't know. McGee is with him, and he and Ziva did their weird eye communication thing and he'd have called us if he needed backup."

Abby mouthed wordlessly for a moment. Then she screwed her eyes up tight, drew in a breath, and opened them. "Okay. You go be super-probie, Lee. I've got everything running I can, and I'll let you know what I find out. I'm going to go stand on my head. It's supposed to give me a new perspective on the world. "

Lee backed out of the Lab slowly, a small smile forming as Abby turned herself upside down, platformed feet resting lightly on a file cabinet. She'd wait here until Tony came back from him meet with Fornell. At that thought she nearly fell over again. What did Fornell want? The Director was already screwing around with their lives – did the FBI need to make it worse?

One of the other probies scurried in, asking something about a box of evidence. The guy took one look at her, and turned and left. Abby smirked. There was something to be said for being the crazy-goth-lab-bat. Unimportant people didn't bother you, and it forced the probies to look beyond the surface. His team lead, or maybe his SFA would be back in a few minutes.

Three minutes later, SFA Hank Swift popped his head in her lab. "Oh! Abby! There you are. The probie was going on about some crazy lady in the lab on her head – I thought it might be you."

Abby grinned impishly at him as she flipped herself right-ways again. "What do you need?"

He set a box of evidence on her table. "One of the other lab's experts is out sick, and the other guy is swamped. Plus, you're the best here – everyone knows it." A Caff-Pow! appeared next to the evidence as his tone turned wheedling. "And you are the queen of gossip. I'll give you to scoop on the goings on in the bullpen if you'll rush this for me?"

Abby grabbed the cup and slurped. "Deal," she said, "if you can tell me who set the desks to right? Tony was awfully impressed that someone got his filing system correct."

She watched in glee as Swift's neck flushed, and he looked away. "DiNozzo acts the clown, but he's always looked out for the rest of us. I was just glad there was something I could do to repay him for it," he rubbed his neck awkwardly. "I know you like Gibbs, Abby, but what he did to Tony - that's just not okay. And me and the other SFA's sorta decided that whatever we could do to make him feel appreciated, we'd do it."

Abby felt her eyes swim and her smile waver. "Thanks," she said quietly. "He deserves it."

Swift looked at her and winced. "Um. Abby. If you cry, DiNozzo will take me out. I like living. Please don't cry."

Abby laughed a little wetly. "Okay. You talk while I unpack this," she gestured at the evidence box.

"As my lady commands," Swift answered, sweeping a bow, and, perching on the edge of her desk, he began to talk.


	15. Chapter 15: Tony and Tim

Hey all – this is an update to my original chapter 15. I am working hard on the rest of the story, but still struggling - Gibbs and Ziva especially don't want to cooperate. Aiming for next update before the 17th, but we'll see!

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><p>Tony was dreaming of a quiet apartment and a glass of wine and some low-key jazz or classical by the time they finished getting Trina Simmons to her hotel. He and McGee were walking toward their cars when his cell phone rang. "Director" flashed on the screen, and Tony sighed. He really shouldn't answer that call, especially with the information Tobias had given him tonight, but while Tony might challenge his superiors, he only flirted with the insubordination line, and generally tried to avoid it. Ignoring the call – he wasn't sure he could do that.<p>

Before his tired brain could process everything, a hand shot out, and snatched the phone up from his hand. Tony stared in bemusement at McGee as he proceeded to blatantly lie to the Director:

"DiNozzo's cell! Yes, hello director. No, he left it in my car . . . I think he's gone for the evening – can I help you? I'll have him call you as soon as he gets in tomorrow. Sorry for the mix up. Yes, you too."

McGee hung up. Tony stared. McGee stared back.

"Lets not make me any more of a liar than I have to be," he said finally. "I'll see you at your apartment?"

Tony took a breath. He didn't want to be rude, but . . . "Look, McGee, I'm probably going to have a glass of wine and listen to quiet music and generally do nothing all night. No dates, no hard alcohol –I promise I don't need a baby sitter."

Tim flushed. "I don't think you need a babysitter! I just . . . this is going to come out all wrong, but I know how important Gibbs is to you, and I don't think you should be alone tonight."

Tony found himself staring at his probie with new eyes for the umpteenth time that day. Gratefulness warred with a nearly desperate desire to be alone, to not be accountable for the health and safety of someone. "Tim," he started, but trailed off.

McGee herded him toward his car. "Tony, when I shot that cop – or didn't shoot him – the point is, when I thought I shot that cop, and Abby couldn't tell me if I had or hadn't, you wouldn't leave me alone. Even though I wanted you to," he muttered, looking away briefly. "You're about where I was that night. You handle everything for the team, give us a shoulder to cry on, or a sparring partner, or just are there for us, but the person who was all of that for you just told you that you don't matter. I think he'll remember he's wrong. But in the meantime, I'm not leaving you alone to your demons."

Not interested in showing more emotion than he already was, Tony settled on mentally wrinkling his nose childishly. Tim was right, of course. There was no way Tony would leave him alone in this situation. _My probie's all grown up,_ he thought, a little ruefully. He nodded, instead. "I'll see you there."

Tim grinned a little, looking suddenly shy. It was a look Tony hadn't seen on his face before, but recognized anyway. It was a look he had worn himself once or twice, when he convinced Gibbs he wasn't superman and that Tony could help shoulder the burden once or twice. It was, he thought, the look of a Senior Field Agent – trying to watch out for the person who's job it was, terrifyingly, to keep everyone together.

Tim showed up at his apartment 20 minutes after Tony arrived, holding a bag of food out as an offering, explaining without words where he'd been. They tore into the burritos, and then slowed down on the tacos. Tony felt drowsy almost immediately after he'd gotten food into his system. When he thought back over the day, he couldn't really remember eating anything after breakfast. No wonder he was sleepy. He got up and poured himself a glass of wine, and one for Tim, before turning some jazz on low, and stretching out on the couch. Tim turned the television on low, and settled into his armchair, looking like he too might try a nap. Tony allowed himself to drift off, not sleeping really, but dozing. He chuckled lightly, but shook his head at Tim's inquiring look. He didn't need to know that his normally irrepressible boss felt like an old man tonight.

At some point, he must have actually fallen properly asleep, because he woke up to the sound of Tim arguing quietly but heatedly. He didn't sound afraid, just angry – there was none of the tenseness in his voice Tony associated with danger.

"Go away," Tim was nearly hissing at their visitor. "He's sleeping. I would like for him to remain that way for an entire night for once."

A deeper voice replied, and Tony knew he should recognize it, but the words sounded like a rumble to his sleep fogged brain. He struggled to wake up further – he was of no use to Tim like this.

"No!" Tim whisper-yelled. "You want to apologize? Fine! But do it in the fucking bullpen, in front of everyone you humiliated him in front of. Don't break into his apartment late at night after he's had a hard day," Tim paused, and Tony could practically hear his teeth grinding. "I already HAVE the intel on the Director. Go away, Gibbs." Tim just sounded tired now, and Tony sat up, smiling briefly at the blanket that had 'mysteriously' appeared on top of him. "Let us finish our case. Talk to him once we're done."

"McGee," Tony could finally hear Gibbs' words, "I get that you're pissed. I just need to talk to DiNozzo."

"No, Gibbs," McGee countered quietly. "I'm not going to let you in past here. I may not be able to take you down like Ziva or Tony might, but I already pulled a gun on you once tonight – _when you broke into Tony's apartment at midnight_ – so forgive me if I don't have any qualms about pulling one on you a second time."

Tony, sitting in slightly amazed and stupefied silence, nearly chuckled. He'd pulled a gun on Gibbs once or twice when he'd picked the lock on his apartment without warning before. He also knew that Tim wouldn't shoot Gibbs, but the threat would make him understand that Tim really wasn't kidding.

The silence from the entry of his apartment was fairly deafening, but eventually, he heard the door click shut softly – he assumed that meant Tim had shut it. Tony's eyebrows rose as he heard the sound of a safety engaging. How he'd slept through it disengaging, he'd never know – that was a sound most officers and agents trained themselves to wake up at when they heard it. He must have needed the sleep more than he thought.

Tony was so engrossed in his thoughts that he was startled when Tim entered the room, a glass of water in his hand, and a flushed face. Tim looked even more startled.

"Tony!" he exclaimed, looking around the room wildly. "I just got a glass of water – did I wake you up?"

Tony smirked. "No, Probie. That would have been my senior field agent threatening to pull a gun on someone in my apartment."

Tim turned red, and stuttered incoherently for a moment before pulling himself together. "Well, he shouldn't have broken in."

Tony shook his head. "I've done it too," he said, smiling. "Thanks for turning him away. I'm not up to dealing with him at the moment."

Tim grinned shyly. "I figured you weren't, when him picking the lock didn't wake you up. Or taking my safety off."

Tony grimaced, and shook his head. "I'm going to go sleep in an actual bed, Tim. You can crash here or go home."

Looking at his couch, Tim shrugged. "Might as well stay. I think Gibbs might be lying in wait for me to leave. You don't need to deal with that right now."

Tony huffed a laugh through his nose. "I'll see you in the morning. There's an extra toothbrush in the bathroom."

He ambled down the hall and collapsed onto his bed, wincing as his bruises made themselves known. Despite the godawful end to last week, the director had ordered him out again over the weekend. Tony had spent much of Saturday night doing surveillance for her – which turned up a whole lot of nothing – and on Sunday, he'd gotten called in by Cassie Yates, who was undercover again, and needed a "convincing Italian mobster presence," which apparently in the whole of NCIS meant him. He had been required to prove his worth, and although they made the bust, Tony had already taken several heavy hits. The Director, in a fit of pique, had declared his presence simultaneously unsanctioned and classified, which had infuriated Cassie, who pointed out that the Director had cleared Tony for the op _before _she called him and that his team needed to know. Tony was sure that one of the beeping lights on his voicemail would be a concerned one from Cassie. Suffice to say, it had been a long weekend after a longer week, and this week wasn't shaping up to be any better.

Except that in some ways, it was. Tony was nearly frozen with fear that something might happen to _his_ team, but he was also ridiculously grateful for the trust and support they'd gifted him with. The mental image of Tim going toe to toe with Gibbs made Tony grin as he stood up again to change into his pjs. He was so proud of all of them, it hurt. He wondered briefly if Gibbs had ever felt like this about them, and decided that he hadn't, because Tony couldn't imagine leaving his team, ever.

"Tony," Tim's voice sounded both hesitant and furious, "what the hell happened to you?"

Tony just barely kept from jumping. "What happened to me what, Tim?"

Tim swallowed, looked away, and then met Tony's eyes. "You've got several suspiciously shaped bruises, Tony. In fact, you look like you've been in a brawl. Something you want to tell me?"

Tony winced. "Not really?" he tried, knowing even as he said it that Tim wouldn't let it go. He would never have let it go if Gibbs had showed up looking like he did. "Need a t-shirt and sweats?" he asked instead, pulling them out of his drawer. "Here. You don't need to know, Tim. But it won't happen again."

Tony thought he might be able to hear Tim's teeth grinding from across the room. "I'm beginning to think I should actually take Abby up on her offer to implant a GPS tracker in your skin. Did you at least tell Fornell about it?"

He winced again. "I had backup, Tim. And no, I didn't tell Fornell."

Tim's hands flew into the air angrily, in a gesture that spoke of his frustration, his defeat, and his unwillingness to give up. "How the hell am I supposed to keep you alive and well if I don't know when you're being handed out to people for assignments? I don't know what the hell is wrong with the Director, or why NONE of us said anything about it, but this is absurd, Tony! You can't keep doing this! I don't want to bury another teammate – and especially not when its because of a director who won't take no for an answer!" He winced, and rubbed his hands across his face. "Why can't you just say no?"

Tony tried not to flinch at the wistfulness and desperation in Tim's voice. He shrugged a little. "And what? Get fired? Sent off to cool my heels afloat or in the boonies somewhere? Leave you all here, or scattered to the winds, when I'm not there to watch your six? Tell me, Tim. What am I supposed to do?" He hadn't meant to get angry, but Tim's voice was just echoing Tobias – and his own, personal fears. As far as Tony could see, though, he was stuck. "I won't disobey an order, Tim. She tells me its classified, it's classified. The only reason I let Fornell in on the La Grenouille op was because it's clear it's not sanctioned by anyone. I'm not stupid – at least one of his buddies is CIA, and there might be another foreign agent in the mix too. I'm a cop, Tim. I follow the clues, and I may buck tradition and walk way out of the lines, but I have never disobeyed an order." Tony paused, thinking back. "Since I became a cop. There's a PD who doesn't acknowledge I worked for them, because I quit rather than disobey an order that was covering up a dirty cop. But here? I'm not leaving you. So I stay. And I say yes."

* * *

><p>Tim reached out toward Tony, only to pull back. He knew him well enough to know that he didn't want to be touched right now. "Tony. . ." he started to say, but then fell silent.<p>

He watched as Tony pulled on sweats and a shirt, silently promising himself he would remain aware of those bruises which spread purple-black across his boss' torso and back.

"I probably can't convince you to get those checked out by Ducky?" he asked quietly.

Tony huffed. "He'll ask questions I can't answer, Tim. And he won't let it go."

Tim tried not to scowl. "You think I'm going to let it go?! Goddamnit Tony! I get that the Director's put you in a hard place, I really, really do. But do you think we _like_ watching you suffer? You haven't gotten enough sleep in ages. You come in on Mondays looking like you've been on assignment all weekend, but you say you've been partying. I'm not stupid. I understand that things are need to know. But I'd really rather you get shipped out to cool your heels anywhere rather than get killed because of a stupid mistake because you're too tired to be effective!" Even as he said it, Tim winced. "Shit. Tony. That's not what I meant."

Tony was watching him. "You sound like Fornell," he observed calmly, face expressionless, waiting for Tim to make the next move.

"Tony. I'd rather you be sent off to 'cool your heels' than killed because Madame Director has a grudge. At least someone out there would be watching your six."

Tony grinned tiredly. "She won't send me afloat, Tim. She'll bounce me into an undercover assignment, and I'll be need-to-know faster than a speeding bullet. And if I make it out of that assignment, I'll be labeled 'undercover operative' and I won't ever be back in the bullpen. For all we never hear about it, NCIS has its dark side too. It's a bleak life, Tim. If I'm very, very good, I'll live 5 more years. Sooner or later though, you get made. And one of the times you get made, you don't make it out."

Tim swallowed, hard. The quiet recitation of facts, coupled with _knowing_ that Tony wasn't actually concerned about himself, _knowing_ that he was concerned about what would happen to _them_ if he wasn't there to watch their sixes, made his breath waver on the exhale. "Tony," he said finally, hating how lost his voice sounded, "what do you need me to do?"

He watched Tony watch him, weigh him. He knew that Tony allowing him to meet with Fornell had been a good sign, but he was unsure how far that trust extended. How much had he damaged one of the most important relationships in his life?

"I didn't hand over the full duties of the senior field agent. That's not how you should have been promoted, and I didn't have the time to train you. You've got a better handle on the paperwork now – can you handle more?"

"I think so," Tim said, trying not to remember how long it had taken him to learn how to do the paperwork he'd taken on already.

Tony nodded. "You can do it, Tim. And I'll be around to answer questions. There's also – well, I didn't introduce you to them because when Gi- when you became SFA, you weren't ready. The SFA's meet regularly, to keep us all aware of where the different field teams are at. You know how sometimes other teams requisition other people? It's the SFA's call, and we want to make sure we don't leave a team short-handed, and that the person we're requisitioning will be getting something out of it too. It's why you used to go help teams out with technology – we wanted you to teach them how to do it, and you needed to learn other people's leadership styles. You weren't ready to make those judgment calls, and the other SFA's knew that. They also knew that as a team, we were on an uneven keel, and couldn't afford to lose a member – even for a day – or gain another. Keeping us balanced once we'd added Lee was hard enough." Tony looked apologetic, but also like he was very sure he'd made the right decisions.

Tim nodded. "I think, with some guidance, I could start making those calls." His chest hurt a bit when Tony looked surprised that he wasn't protesting. "And maybe get some guidance from the other SFA's? They," Tim paused, and felt shame flushing his cheeks, "Well, they don't like me much. Because of how I treated you. And how I let Ziva treat you. And how I haven't said anything about you being run ragged. But I could learn a lot from them, I know. Things I should have been learning from you, if I'd bothered to pay attention when I had time to learn them."

Tony nodded – there wasn't really anything he could say to that which wouldn't be patently untrue. Tim glared briefly at the space where the bruises would be if he could see them, and then shook his head. "Thanks for the sweats, Tony. I'll be on the couch – lets grab breakfast for the team in the morning."

He shut the door quietly behind him. Tim felt lighter than he had since Gibbs had arrived that morning and Tony's complete incomprehension had shocked him: even if he hadn't properly apologized, he knew Tony understood what all his stumbling around had meant.


	16. Ziva Tries to be Nice

It's been a long while. Apologies everyone who's been waiting on this! The story will be slow going here; work is quite crazy at the moment. That said, this story isn't on hiatus, or forgotten. I'm just chasing down my muse, and needing more hours in a day to get everything done.

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><p>Ziva had escorted Trina to a local hotel, and given her the number to her personal cell. "If you have any problems in the night, or become concerned about anything, please call me," she'd told Trina, several hours after getting her settled into her room. Tony had told her it was her call if Trina needed a watch, and Ziva had decided that agents would make Trina feel more nervous than safe. They had no threats on her, and Trina had checked in under NCIS's auspices, not under her own name. Instead, Ziva had helped Trina order dinner, and offered advice on the movies the hotel offered. She smiled to herself as she shut the door to Trina's hotel room. She'd asked for "a movie that won't make me cry," looking more than a little shaky. Ziva had been able to help her select a movie, but she also had offered some comfort, which before Tony had gotten his paws into her, she would not have been able to do. Tony's frustrating insistence that she not only deal with victims but also take a few FLETC advanced courses had paid off, and Ziva knew it.<p>

Ziva made it to her car before she remembered that they hadn't ever asked Tony for dinner. Knowing their schedule, if she didn't do it tonight, she might not get a chance until after Wednesday. She sat in her car in the hotel parking lot for several minutes, debating with herself before she finally decided that going to Tony's was the right thing to do, instead of just calling.

She arrived at Tony's apartment in time watch a light flicker on in Tony's kitchen. Ziva got out of her car to head up, since someone was clearly awake, but then she noticed a familiar truck parked in front of McGee's sedan, and Ziva wondered if she would be needed for damage control. She was still hesitating, door open and hand resting on top, when the door to Tony's apartment complex swung open and slammed shut. Gibbs stomped – _is stomped the right word? I thought stomped was for small children. _– out, and into his truck. Ziva waited for the engine to roar to life, but it – and Gibbs – sat quietly.

She closed the door to her mini quietly, and started across, but before she had reached the truck, the engine roared, and Gibbs tore out of the neighborhood. Ziva shrugged to herself, and turned back to her car. Although she had much making up to do with Tony, it was McGee's turn to do so tonight.

* * *

><p>Ziva entered the bullpen the next morning with breakfast for the team. McGee looked harried, and more worried than he had the night before, and an empty coffee cup told the story of a long morning after a longer night. Lee looked nervous about something – <em>is she ever not nervous?<em> – and was clearly keeping her head down. Tony was meditating, an unfamiliar case file open in front of him. A cold mug of tea suggested that he'd been in the office at least as long as McGee. When she'd joined the team, Ziva thought that meditating was just code for napping, but she'd learned by now that really what it meant was Tony was taking the information, and letting it shift into place, making the unbelievable rapid-fire connections he was known for. She set her bag down, and pulled her chair into the center of the desks.

"Campfire?" she asked, and watched Lee's head jerk up in surprise.

McGee made an unintelligible noise, and picked up the coffee cup, only to look at it with some confusion when it was cold and empty. He nodded once, and swung his chair around the desk as well.

"Good morning, Ziva," Tony said placidly, eyes still closed. "I thought you didn't like campfires?"

Ziva flushed. "Well. They can be silly. But I think this one is important."

Tony opened his eyes. "Yes?"

"I brought breakfast. And if you don't come eat it in the campfire, I will find a way to use your breakfast against you." It was a weak threat, but something about the way McGee was watching Tony (as covertly as he could; Ziva resolved to give him lessons) made her nervous. She was not going to make the mistake she had made far too often of trying to make a joke and striking – she blinked once in frustration. _These stupid American-isms. I will never get them straight._ "Michelle," she asked slowly, "when you say something as a joke, but it hurts someone instead, you say it strikes what?"

Michelle, carefully pulling her chair around the desks, looked up. Ziva winced at the surprise on her face – and was glad she'd resolved the day before to be a little nicer. "Um. Agent David. You can say 'strikes home' or 'strikes bone'. Sometimes people say 'strikes the heart'." She looked hopeful, as though somehow Ziva would know if had it right.

"Thank you," Ziva said, before slapping at Tony's hand. "That one is for McGee. Yours is over there," pointing at the tin-foil bundle.

McGee picked his bundle up, opened it, and looked up in surprise. "Ziva," he said, "this has ham on it. You keep kosher."

She shrugged, and didn't answer, pulling a thermos of coffee out instead, and handing it around. McGee leaned back to pick up his coffee mug as Tony took a bite of his meal. Michelle was carefully unwrapping hers, looking gratified that Ziva had noticed her breakfast preferences.

"Thank you Ziva," Tony mumbled around a mouthful. "This is really good." He paused for a moment while he chewed. "I don't need to worry about hiding a body, right?"

Ziva smirked, and pulled out one of her knives to clean it, studiously not meeting anyone's eyes.

"If this is what we get to persuade us to hide the body," McGee said, "please, Ziva, more bodies."

Michelle choked, coughed, and started to laugh. Tony's grin slid back into place. Ziva felt some of the tension leave her.

"We can talk about the case while we eat, yes?" she asked.

"Yeah. Ziva, report," Tony said, reaching back for a pen and notepad.

She took a bite of her muffin, and swallowed. "Trina helped Adam Peters disappear. She used her college savings to buy him a new identity."

McGee chimed in. "Whoever she paid, they did a really good job. It's about on par with what Abby and I would do to create an undercover persona. Looking at Peters and Simons side by side, there are similarities, but the Simons cover was thorough."

Ziva nodded. "They'd planned it together. She says that no one in their right mind would have sent a kid back into that house, and she and Adam were sure that someone was being bribed."

"The Detroit PD detective I spoke to said he remembered that case," Michelle said. "He didn't say it outright, but I got the feeling he hadn't looked too hard at Trina's alibi. He was also the officer who picked Adam up the night he ended up in foster care."

"So Peters became Simons. They got married within a year, and he joined the marines not long after that. He had some friends; no one too close, but no one actively disliked him, according to Trina. He was working on a project this weekend. Left the house Friday morning, and told Trina he'd be back Monday morning, spending the night off-base in a hotel on the way home Sunday. He spoke to Trina Saturday night. He told Trina he thought someone was watching him, but he hadn't seen anyone. He choked it up to stress – the project wasn't confidential, but it was important, and it had to be finished by the end of the weekend," Ziva recited, calling up the image of Trina sitting across from her in the conference room.

"Chalked it up to stress, Ziva," said Tony absentmindedly. "McGee and I talked to his CO yesterday – Jeff Thomas. He was pretty shocked by the whole thing."

McGee nodded. "Commander Thomas was sure that it wasn't about the project, but he's going to send us a list of the people working on it anyway. He did say that Tom seemed distracted, and he'd pulled him aside to ask him about it. He didn't really get anything out of him, but suggested we try asking Petty Officer Landish, who Commander Thomas thinks was his closest friend on the project."

"We should choose a name," Michelle suggested, and looked a bit surprised at herself. "We're going to get turned around if we use Adam and Peters and Tom and Simons. We should choose one and stick with it."

"I vote Tom or Simons," said Ziva. "They are the names he chose, yes? That is who he was."

McGee and Tony nodded. "I've got the preliminary report from Ducky," Tony said. "Cause of death was gunshot wound to the chest. TOD was between midnight and two am Monday. Abrasions on the wrists consistent with being bound tightly. Bruising on the temple, and torso. Extensive ligament damage to right knee, probable cause blunt force trauma. Abby is running a tox screen – his basic blood-work came up empty, and the bullet. Old scarring across back and chest, consistent with child abuse." Tony grimaced. "McGee, run his credit card. We need to know what hotel he was at, and we need security tapes. Ziva, you and Michelle should go pick Trina up and bring her here. I'd like to interview her again."

"And you?" McGee asked.

"I've got a meeting with the Director," Tony answered.

Ziva watched McGee and Tony have a silent conversation. She and Lee exchanged a glance. Lee shrugged, _I don't know_.

"It's fine, McGee," Tony snapped, finally. McGee looked skeptical, but nodded.

Ziva grabbed her gear, and nodded at Michelle. "We should be back in an hour. We'll call if it will be longer."

As she and Michelle entered the elevator, an unfamiliar agent stepped out. Ziva held the door, and watched as she headed straight for Tony. McGee smiled at her. "Cassie! How are you?"

Cassie smiled at McGee briefly. "Fine, Tim," she said, turning to Tony. "How are you?"

"Fine, Cassie," he said, voice demanding she drop it – though Ziva did not know what it was.

"Look, Tony," Cassie said, and then her voice dropped again, and Ziva couldn't hear what she was saying. She watched McGee's face instead. He had his "I've just caught the coding error" face on as he watched Cassie and Tony talk.

Lee tapped Ziva. "I think McGee's got it," she said. "Let's go."

Ziva looked at the trio one more time, and then nodded. "Yes. And then we will bring Trina back here, and I will make McGee answer our questions."


End file.
